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libidomechanica · 1 year

Text

“But attentions in red brickworks cleft of lies; from whom I lorne”

A ballad sequence

Alas, no belt and from the science to shift, the gilded hook the long-needy Fame doth each hissing when younger day;

lorn autumns and speak and been the leaves of tender up each rope distant Poles have it back&forth his failing Lips open’d

before. Be crowned, two rejoicing— all that the boy, the same fornicator, an’ the stone, that warp us of the same.

By stares and are substantial awe we watch thews of plottery, his common be at rest. Nourishment was fill it whimpers,

and squares, unless your soul’s imagination and Moon; and love the midnight for even in despite despised even

at there. But Destiny, others will, from whom I shall before I decree longbow’s wit than this rest. Which do in

ruin be, to eat the well. There is not skill. Upon eyes are king to move to lift my wo, come sort of fire-side them

at there was a—duke, Ay, ever loving: o, but now betwixt. Art so there survive. Through the dusky race. Back through oft

hath in my head, and for love in the groves and thee, to each other’s will the black mark with the earlier page. An echo

to a mansion; of a few, not lost might be fed. But attentions in red brickwork’s cleft of lies; from whom I lorne?

With these raspberries flow; soft a lasting chains across before I derive honey of postilion’s sleepe hold the banner

of reach. Blood red were a stormy timely buds with her breathe why not along. Blank sadness, will then the means defeated,

by the water spread around some boy bringeth; stella, Starre of right, nor bent, nor time, thy image of hand, when at

the bright;—to curb the martyrs awed, as frankness, some deem it but will, gude faith doth one gen’ral rules him, soft cheek they ride.

Fair eyes are these effectually returne, start up, it whimpers, to work my mind at last had done such matter that sense

it makes all loss of Time, and greed, I leaves his God, that rang with his volumes done my gushing no such primal naked

is by the golden mystery of my hands and thee, Cynara! And no more Yankees that rather and then me! A

whisper of a hope that had robbed us course renewed the temple, saying, now a twisted of them stood bowed, wins, the

wild as a six weeks’ star. Picks from times truculent—but neither session in marble pilings. By self-example style

blue eggs of robins, but Strongbow from a highway, and faith! Hungry formidable which was spoil they gagged man, his other

settled for summer breathe high heavy head: I had lived for the same, perhaps from leaning the day; better, thus fault.

Of mind, then this minute mock old in earth was small! How one last word thou shalt hap to drown me—to declines. Boats when the flowers gather the waning more the morning, hunting, but, life one bright-dark struggle ceased; he said the chase, so thy believ’d the mire of some roughness, yet has here she laughed and squadrons of their liquid bed: then kissed arms and with spirit

leaps with inconstantial awe we watch for a tent at midday moan, and either hearing the vernal Intercourse I take the colored boys. By selfe didst departed up in her follow in a chess-board—the Sexes’ in his past its meet, and a good watch’d through to fame: now will pluck it from yonder our captive, yet with claim on claim from hanging battle fell

on Locksley Hall! I am amazed he had not say, when she remember sleepe again, his river, this vile age presents three? To run off with rain short; for no apparent reason was rung by gladly? Verse, to which I should fight her managed by day is not in nature have weighed, father the gusty trees. Which she passion ev’ry fears. Drunk, kick up with our

claims of devilish doctrine of life, the lawn, the betrayed, and took away my life; so that I shall know I will know they gagged in the boy when the sun, and make ye blue. Thy oaths I quite Danish or Dutch with Moliere’s too painful loving music, at whose state, and the kill’d his robbery had not those that I love took him that my sister, as a six

weeks’ star. In every morn; an’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. That take the windy jest had laboured him for the darkness, and, like death. Of coursers also something into a very for him, her horses who have hard- grained, as Senses all sorts of Hell mix with words can one another’s Eyes the moth, whoe’er it shock a connoisseur; but she no saints,

by night, some eares, the o’er; and, gentle her love, some guest, tis to the light be fulfil the blazon of the Passions lie; vertues opening day, I bade my desert smiles away twould riders fresh sin, all things the yesterns as one glass and smallpox, above that I always premising our father’s as a dream, and, constructed woes await the indifference

certain play, such a child? And General roar of the frosty darkness the twilight we slept in their age’s prudent—would laughter, plaiting like a wisp: and keep their punishmen, and set a sculptured our Sophias are onward nobleness to soul, the tale of hand; I bow’d to thinking about things she’s to me, yet has been elsewhere, and scratch with all his function

and reconciling Pretty were shed on ocean’s paradise: wheels may die a jewelled sky. I’ll staid with fancy light, and great world’s biggest love’s use them not; their smells of church was hard a state, helpless, voice is sin, he that is lord of war him, in some beauties of our deare throne, his rearing, scatter’d in me threading thro’ the mellay, lord shall join in

sadness, who fare like turns; a very lap of citations in request, shown, Not war: and eke my size again. May world, and always approves and make that much thee to the river. So, little which, with suavity, or on the Slap- dash regiment, and in the glory for things, through beauty’s wasted times—as ours we could redressing, ev’ry woman’s oppression.

I was desolate actions find; in winter. Nor Britain mourn it. The millions and she tale of Quixote? Rift the kitchen, and as the bowl of custom. Will very straight rising line; sometimes stumbling flame within the Sheepe, such sights she wholesome had not in my though it makes me for bestead, shuffled and now a wander’d one, mething near, swear the rest.

And since darkness equal baseness tale to do thy flame my plunge my selfe, but do you more the women dumb. Ages have shouting’s making an inferior not? In birth, that slow? I love at large-moulders, love me, and rather thou for text. When I am I, who have lost as a lion’s breath, only leave on dinners should fail from thence honey fore her

hand insane distinguish in. And kept in the higher night! We talk about at yon altar for love’s veins? To testify the rolling, true woman. Yearning that went to be mingle;— why from me. And our Sophias are darted, all that the pearly glistened. From far as polish’d horde, for a debt she e’er showers like a city, out of her before that I

have speakes senses, leaven makes us most difficult in a light or wrongs like home releasing, while they knees most fragrant made at rest. Alas, how often hope, to my purpose life and Passionate heart goes black, browner horses yelled; they dare says, greatly shadows of great carefull slow in judging me to the banner of woman sits that which the breeding

light; they not now? On a hen to steals men’s wrong— a smoke go up the Sheepe, iealouzie hemselves form deliver’d with numbers of thin disguise broke promis’d I forget—an old tomb’s ruin: yonder head, and still a hearty Purpose like a cliché. And caught of skill’d up—see Gazette. Passing sire and amidst their roots again; but whence into a sigh

one distant mountain-river, which often a man’s, and rolling, but sorrowing gnaw. Or gentleness, delight. Eyes. They woxe, and told me the darkness and pale, no distinguish, in gazing on darkness clear sparkling arms. Said the through them make him, he’d die of earth beneath her brows the color on the rose it was young: the blue and found in pedigrees, a

touch my empty house, greek, set with what hour of six. Panted finger moved in sights and ways, where na thy kin, sae high heavy! Good? Alas! A maze where Max lives to keep pace; I willing roguish een. As the keen-edged flavour, continual tears, like most destroys it; but their fee; but of my despair, observes push And communion, and there was History.

Love the byrds were na thy kin, sae high, she cannons rattle, thought; with care. And there’s a Sphinx. This: whate’er the wit, the

fresh ornaments for a dew or deformed of tales t is the palace’ I. Say, with forgotten except only so

formed of the long-needy Fame doth euen in clubs found? And since erst, as she, whose home. Good luck to the night, and the sigh one

distance beginners frame him back a huge chain round; he spouse prepared by his ale-house up later. Began to warm,

impassionate heat. Wear to thee, Elizabeth and if we fail: she can’t dares be blest abode, and, if dumber, listening!

In women sang between our neigh— no dull leafe is ended for her smile could not left her birth finds are out o’ h—ll.

Pardon, the Master, in a cornice, that mourn it. Or, if not for it; smiling words say, is the gray kings began himself into your child; she was full of right in me with cold

dust another, you surety for it was white hands of the abuse of virtue heavenly huntress of heaven—because is hardly any air. Whose breast, robert Burns: can

feel, by its glass of the girl: and street, playing on from her husband, falling. Grace an’ drum we’ll night, when on the stroke the doors, and Lilia There wed, then them years would lie drowsing

thy Purpose runs, and be fair, at sight, till that I owe to the Pleiads, rising lighted care na coming worse that thousand yet bubbled up and reserve with bold pretence; and scarce

three or their lectures for rating behind to every window cross there were hollow her! Your Mistress, but face puts on pants and women, so remember;—but who, Pope says. Comes in.

But yet, we men a columned entry shone in the shades ev’ry grace of incipient fire glance hung, till e’en let the water fade, and take him. Perhaps from accident; it suffer’d—

Perish in. And inglorious, when I do smell in all, am Master, the West, and beautiful seldom I ever prove none. All o’er the puppet-shows she ought, as shee.

How many differ more apt to and fearing disprince: look to mine eye or ears for your carpet, your over-fond: so, to publicke heed it must parts of life which all have never

out o’ h—ll. Silence beacons. By glimmering itself a mine, that the child! Ratified thing: my most beams that for a moment mercifully cry, and dream. Others will not pine.

Cold as any other herd increasing, but is flat all their own sad similitude, Shared, could not Cervantes, in the gallant cavalier de la Ruse, this our peace, a Gothic

pile ’tis an old Harp I still, and not long resplendid host innocence. Depart She remember;—but I will not get that nods and chuckle, an’ I’ll have now long, supply. To

shelter too,—with our scorn to me: we fear, in a cave eating, and small. Ye satyr; whence delicately been a colt—take, breast a love now are children’s, know not harvest ripen,

her head’s universal law; and through awkwardly. Of inconstant wing are drops of youth at every day till as Sighs stood as well-gotten husting isn’t hard as Newcastle, and

beauty with a pink wave&we will be able too, when all of thee still a children, warm in love us how I measure, if a Hungary fail? In some sublimer word by

the ninety years I must be molten out, and be you the Prince than gratified the night to learn to me like beasts its other an’ a’ should be us, nor drown’d but track me down

on your mother crest; which it surpasseth, saue there’s safety’ graft my wife she banquet and died; and yet loue you. In gentlemen we should set between; but speak. Her hail, or else

that, it is because the savage dares, and laid us as you. Thou shalt sit in his growth a vengeance sleep can no horseman, came in all Compexions something else but with the heavy!

Or, if not for all the wine of God do go, are always sought for ever has wealth, and injured the passion, yea, all commerce and This wreath in it also spake the Braine.

Man with a humdrum tete-a-tete. Along tarry. Her cloud of my mother an’ mother gasping for breast act abides

the same destruct me other’s cause, that in my father’s death, no, no, my Deare, let us prompting: not thy flame, take back-

ground, in Britain mourning Phoebus prompt her wake no waters folding it shall the poor brides it, sdeath! And the Sun upon

the duet, attuned sound. The two rejoice o’ Pity ne’er a big box stores’ accoutremendous if: if she can warm

in this turned sheep, with them not, he, that was the fluster, they were for that made my dying mirth; while pray’rs I try, o pious

reason … Whoever heard war- musing mistress of Fitz- Fulke; the world’s fresh, fragrant, luscious Speech the frosty feet, my

funny toil is not desire or are taught would rather, I would see but kind which, with gossip, scandal, and now and

ripen, her doating weft, where time in darkness equal light as bare as your souls. For someone left in my though t was

born kneel for which I have been—down by your best and Max whimpers, and everywhere pure sanctified except her false

usurper wan the fiery life in the holy grow a home; where the morning; long since I had absentees. An’ she

hid my love the world accoutremendous if: if she remembers of this moment, so well; strike: then from thee breed sweet

child, a great here undid this be he,—or a daughter, had also was more soluble is the household no dislike

to a bottlebrush tree or thee,— that were seems I see her hand wings, all else receive, and beneath huge charter of the

Spring flashing him. Because I hate the shepe the soldier’s death was made. To be as brooms, and state, and have scope for life.

A sparkling rings, I have years, is better thou art cold— yet Eloisa spreads out of my desire in robes and

rolling organs lift thee, an image street, whose Back is crookéd as the grass, to please; with a stuffed animals, varnished

again and for love of ours shall, so shall her footman put it keep my dream. So broken so that never would enter,

part his banner. He looks how the sky, and the roses—too be well both light be found their fox- hunt o’er mounts of names in.

Forfeits, arise again, on a giant deck’d with our good in His great gift, upon them. Come, list! Parted; stella, whose

cheek, and love, and blossoms of the through her her long; the people’s lips that will beleeue me. The Mind seem a nest. Beside them

freely in a royal right or wrong for Kim. Or you? And Will, ’ and petty Ogress’, and bad! He tore him calling of

them achieve the only leave me deaf that still weary evening, and matrons, for loved more horns that men do, the quiet.

And he wasn’t talk you over, pledged to fear is used. But nature keepe, iealouzie hemselves to fill with ooze, and he heart is what carefull case pure immortal rain, her held most

men are were rather the thrice had naughty can guests, or like these they streamless, and watch for Fortune to shines but find. Him Max, and beauty in the drew one love at large enow to

draw this truth flower, or good education; and Lord Pyrrho, too, that unexpecting things seem a heterogeneous mas to look at was to lull epoch, that nothing issues

for a moments and ripples, swim throbbed us much. Sweet black when we walk you once so long goodbye like disallows close room, nor hate: sometimes away, leauing men some were the

rudest or generously a fortality— its quantity is smooth’d all such a scorn at him ruin your valenting then sadly? The future, because I had loved and

the feudal warrior ladyship: and I defac’d its calm, to one and ears of sea. ’Tis no tide the nation, and thou hast too dear ideas, all you ready.-Spangled marred and

the lie’ and the dreary walls. Tis to that will pluck it up, and a song’s befall, and ev’n thou my cheek and black tongue! When Goethe’s safety in a highest was vowel-keen and thy

blooms, and love O soul, and robed in absent love fleece is depart down onion. That see my woman who love, that day will happen when the jewelled sky. And ocean, color of

the Desert undecyphers soon dry the sunlight time he fleece is remember love, despair? Into catch’d through, and sentiment; she will on Locksley Hall! A green leave to pleasure,

mine be the park, agrees as hers! ’Twill pleas’d to Night himself too clothing to high! Went hand from Gama’s dwarfish loins? Then shoulders of that me like the least their best of his Soul was

gray: I have scope and emeralds to and some old king a battle woods may see from for heaven finds the treason to be seen among we gazed, but in the heart of pleasants! Sigh—

as the science seal’d false in Ruin, and move; such the rest. Or who in sweet black e’e, yet in a hill his money burns inside the fly’s bastard be lov’d no long been cry; for not,

when themselues oppression.—For I cleave touch or some on me—I myself; and Juan, like a small, of art, and went in a cave eating a dearnest eyes to wonder, yet deare and

come to ye, my lad, though the facts! The bowl you mighty store; so thy train firm cloud of his you to a certain’d to the stroke alone striated at all it reposed; when the sweep

in me wrought and cold, and what the corner when the chills seeming, Juan’s your Valenting the sport I sought from but scalding earth and rougher voice o’ gowd, while ech thin and drinks the night,

the world, I’d scorn of follies and loved more. And in the murmur’d let not quite Englishment wrongs, and every longer than them glance hath made by the knots in single with aching

unknown in the gray mare is ill with Bacchant buy, still grows dumb—we stands; take back the foot or season, rather, you know I enuy you In wordy feud, whatever I do!

What is, up to a Shop of Toies I discernable wallow common likings, not see the might be forgive ourselves

but things, queens may well the thrown down lips, should do much clear; by what both and if I could rather dirty servance herself,

beside then he tugged rock, when there’s to my mind is Stellas self mighty windings to his lip: but tough, and slender,

but none were dance lies for some unseen among the next, an eye could composed lets flowers, and nowe then the blackening earth

the Field on the life: and he had climbs still remains: ye rugged rocks! The Sun upon the bar, in whose strangled with a

cry as if thou art thou may; take not, there be and on my selfe didst proue. Yea, ’ answer. Strange! According aisles, and sound,

since you lived for your ideograms, how God will ruin end? That closely clings to mix with these word. Love, your though nothing.

There was the Spring its with little child shore, and rising light, So I began, the son,— the stems. What throbbing vein-channels their heart can comes the Sheepe, whose for being roguish een.

The hands of Time, and secondly, proceed; thirdly, never saints, by night, though the blossom- fragrant at they rode, or forever; he at least the boy, the hall flower heaven’s high-

prompting life—immortal love. Coming flood full of wrecks; and already said, and serene creative, and a lustrous eft was ice, as gentle moment; whose courtesy; and make

him. Since men are blue and sparkling roguish een. Out of Soldiery behind a trace that moment flies the cobblestones of which never, whisper, and tender breast. In case pure?

When lights that I dreams which I held, in the master fade, and warned ear; but you. Darling, an offering, silvering an empty arms; but with what she none. Now conscience and stop twitching speech, faine would be? Whisks it a dream is done. Men. I, for thee.

In grain with catapults, not the tender up each bright it rises like a bird. Allow few speciously withers, the

quiet air that kind which, shining Orient, whenever love of perfumes, for all their smell the windows. Then thou forsake

the patient saint: the patriot, and not her names of the year. When a tear. We entering in evening. With a

bunch of Venus have studding out; sometimes under the shades of some see day, I bade my words that was you did behold

spies, or some unworthiness among piled all my flying stag swept and bowe how it than an advertisement. Your vows,

or vow ye never yet—be happy dwellers of the Eternal World spies, or on the trigger at ease, then in pass

in space: if she like me, and winks behind, to make you that behind here are them he bears before that my side my mind.

While as it else, at thy train but get the right air My future will is the naked lovers fall on the wonder tongues

thy shadows in a lassie dwellers of old temple denied! To her pallid cheeks are left here undid the place, he

replies too soon as, Julia, wedded unto love is but thine, deck’d geese of Love, Hope, earth. New, and let me, come! The milking-

maid, nor wish’d over them blind, some more fond eyes so Love? And when we fell my gushing sweet your ideograms, how am

I so fayre all is large excitement of heaven looks at, in brief, by a red rocks we guards you, you the song i’ve

been faith in it always premising o’er against the cells, where she like the very rough heaven fall, and fro, with

sanctuary alone. A wretch! And on it, feature keep you swear it—sdeath! My beauty all allow this Gama swamped in

their clever can spie; take me then the hunt the embattle, that of the afternoon, like Strange. All our day with us

to join, the drowned with smiling for the nightly turn with gossip, scandal doth new strong to a sight; but in which trotted

not to love. The time drawn from the intent to thee! Me, my boy Then Gama swamped in that now is remembering wind. The

rise again—Things Never Last Fortune came night. But sings. Refusing that echo given back rode him lives in their priming!

Or walk’d with flowers of another of my mind, the sweet thief. We studious zeal and bleeds from hidden rose gem-

like up before his sister Lilia There was a notch in the stockade or taken as the tomb, as sweet thief, when

the fate shall me, so unkind, I embraced. To danced Albion’s vain promis’d I forget: the tenderness—too hard quarters.

Four Honour feels, for often superstition of yours nor ear of dull beat her garden’s gloomier still a round the nymphs which brought: she champaign till Morning flame! Virtue slumber, lapt in one and everything, and sweet no more basest not

acquaintance still it came the murmur’d like a light allure the grand music, answering brain to come as to lend to eternal sleeps in the river bills and streaming—and make mistaken the king; they view? Not Hobbinol, thy once move

as of deep emotion, pulse, at they were master though the parent reason to dispute about at there the mail, lets fall out of trumpets from the after a rain around must tell a cheat, if Maud should once tis by far their age: for her

whisper, ancient beneath his carefully gave, which in each words though Love in our autumn’s sky, and some preux Chevalier de la Ruse, within that I laughed and there’s the kids had ta’en at Vice Lord’s daughter, yet alas, yt is always will

drip and chuckle, or zeal, love the blue eggs of robin’s broad arms could ne’er at each other joy that thro’ all men love inevitable that closest to stay when the sunny; we may sit upon days of the elite’ of cream: and now and

protection. Unto loved face; all as the Snare I language woman as is finished on a hill be transgression, and his plan, but brings more oft the bestow. Who long the Light to be all in arms and faithful to its impressive the name

not exactly traced thee, and queens, bishops, knights, from the Troop a Sháhzemán, by Name and spoke nor heart. Youth fades, knew not heart made a Lady’s self-disdains all be new color on the roses—too bright as the big kids had stol’n thy flowers

that quiver to flowe! Such is my soul check these or praise; because, that would fail from weary, dreary phantom glue my thought them to the God-born Child, with his wild with a sweetly did she of wreck, or like a ruddy shield—shocked, like a shoal; for

the degrading star! In men, she might embower than in the sea, ere he doth bow to loosened her smile those speechless daddy’s spoilt thou ride a Russian. Come, Abelard and eke tender do you from vse of ninety yeare we ourselves could

make the wood bluebells; the wind by life, and the final berries and fro, with one with his worth wind no gunners fresh ornament. Where to offend; the curse the lot of men! He is my deep hae I luv’d; but in the heavy-fruited trees! We

plan foursquares at each other an’ mother’s being came a-pilferer. Tossing pulse that just two cotton strip there but kind guest—thus doth kissing pulses their praise of life in portrait may be molten the great round her hailed heart of losing

your books—fool, have as I used us so, to praise of her as deleterious. Nothing, up to thee, looks at, in corners cried my father lie I kissed their treason forbidden guests, my state the tide; the poet the roses, roaring

them, that grace of high talk of counsell can my flows their own backyard like the scarce defeated, by adding orb decline. And threw him: only proved well these words, of all the praised his rebel nature. Tea with transgression tear fatal name!

-Set; about like lame glimmers that my soul, see with tempests bend; our fortune were she shown, a vestal’s lot! In Vernet’s

ocean; the could not hear, no shoot, or some scene if some couenants make the skies; clouds departees. Till Nature wild Mahratta-

battled a tune his flake white lambs bleat. A woman of education findeth not to be founts of us. That

robe of quality. Has every heath and Fashion; each be worthiness the child. With lower lies perhaps from elm: one

lasting the show’ry bow, when rose upright beauteous and here, weep me constitute a reader! The fair like aught to cull

of folly’s fruit, as morning Walter this sightless bide at rest, of hands and walking across the twangling, you where I

went—and leaving go through grim mouth and refectory, I weep each man who knew not help thee, to do me more within,

nor uttermost, toasts live but right is Day. Best tongue, to have her father’d’ as summer isles shouted; they did; but ours be

so pale? Patient blisse fit for a fine sad memory they have astronomy, but whole and Compounds doth makes the works

on me. In sad sister, and swell— thou shall ever meet. Of liars between a colt—take, breake; loue is my fancys errour

breath; but, till their crest; or wealth, and feeble in mine eyes, feed’st creature, our love O soul, and insane distance beacons.

I standards of their feet to thee. And then his mouths of pallid cheeks, or like a silver breathe himself and shining toward Love, for thee. My Muse, my low down it gazeth; a man came, and song, your memories, spacious poisoned bait. Nor blam’d for

my clasp’d my hand once moves, for summer as if my years which the daylight have both seem’d no less kind, and keep watching sweetly lambent wilful-slow, towards shadows! He yield, must be; for the Touch was mov’d, oh Thou ailest hear that smells of time’s or

tell these for we will not how, but a dream he was told; and I’ve often must take refuge there, a naked Leda with itself. You have tried by some reflected. For true Love speak, while his judgments early straightness call’d the park: strangers

disembark often brought to thy best! To whom groan as though young Love in secret for a reminiscence. Your faces, sigh— as the shadows doth Love spent its little; but with the green: and Walter now-a-days is dear, the talk almost lilies

of lofty mount them down: it is told; and cold reverence, he comes in ecstasy! And make for a whim. And if we missed their vigils pale aspects, though brows as piety could make along a number one the wainscot mouse, and love her.

For Right—but neither mother’s person, grace, and wanne he was that sport I set the setting of a year waxed very Siria of the sureness the exhausted light’s auto reply to be taught by the knots held out around her up and

darts. Nor bent, nor time to the sweet emotion keep: the slope, the lips in his gad-fly brushed frosty Night, yea, sweet is overflow. To do it plus the Druid oak stood at the world is sin, yet she lay beside the parliament of my Soul

of midnight’s auto reply to the sea as it is because thee, ’ and prone she, chaste queens may come, I country dance in the maid the pages with others of flowers, and the old God open Door. Blank and the worse that when they rang on the

hair about to shadow of thee; fruits vnfit. Letting of the auspices of the abused: attorneys-generate brain to me like bright clasp one another’s at home, gleaning departing gold about? No part, which brought against the core o’

the middle of reach’d the good-bye. Like strange and smile a hard- set smile can break your shame o’t, but Fate some on Psyche’s colours and Oblivion of Dream Myself laid us as the gray bare fingers still it not grist. I all respected

wrongs of mutual colour rose than his haughty stores of sunrise, her lady-clad; which know: then I am buriest of these effeminate villeggiatura will be wroth, life at it shoulders into darkly on the roses—

too be wreak’d on sinfully quivering jealous in a rosy silk, that pray’rs dependant Phoebus sinks behind him, in saying through very day to talk almost happy night or wrong. Someone left your beautiful creative, a teeming,

and yet, we call. The old choral wall: others, O my fruit? While yet to the loves of eternity, insistinguish’d dove; in the desert smile could not returns to pleasures, of deede, ready to burst in Claymore and horses’ heels.

It is snowing peach that which I should a sevenfold stormy times stumbling worthy remote and me, the dead, for am

I not, the weeds of herself, by the sleep a king, sense has everlasting child upon cloud, before her full beat

my soul! In that fills thy pains: and Walter hair, collarlessly— but what calm patriot, and fairer taken in clubs

no more. Truest from the comes home. Love is like the village, and come into it—that gentleness to such efforts stile.

Within thee. For the dying, Oh. A sparkling roguish een. Your weekends are taught; I mournful gloomier station,

when the works or a wound a scarf, windows in the green Chinese latest rival, can they grope among hills, then conscience

certes done. Could see but sometimes away. Someone left to something lists were also were all in an hour, as truth! Turn

the authentic mother; which I know the vanquish’d love faithful king the moorland dinner; preserve it, all around: the

might melts in a handmaid we walk you overlooks and arms outstretch auaile whom self-substantial awe we watching, up

to a Shrines! The key to every day till his host, althought, I know causes of Death is strong divine in one, the fire.

As Sappho fragrant a long goodbye like their artillery at they conquer, with an eraser’s softer clime had

given back through that a wander shrines all waies to keep their golden scales; but not to deplore, and scratch without love enjoys

it; but leave me deem it but lov’d! And Lover’s Language wholly miscarries from sprays of likeness like an inspires,

the ends, in exception taught wings that doth sleep, my lay soar high spirits throng’d, nor drown his tenants, wife or maiden moon

which I hardly any air. Like Caractacus in absence the vision holds out of these respondent a hero

lies beneath his Grace shining to bear, a path the purple twilight be vices which of hands till I struck up bad

habitual fastidiousness. Came night, all my words thought: soothe young: the patrician polish air could spring? But heavy

with flower to mother: strong it— ’tis dear, a dark lintel— all the monastic than is through the strove their days to do

me more than that played upon her wake to duct tape there him, in sweet must, and fill it not forests, and then come in the

while. Of your days, her fame; before these her perfect shades of love. Who spin a yarn about its not I, but love her. Away

from thee to moan and rolls tight and queen for me by moonlight; i’ll never, now herself, by those good, and against his

guard more than Time has twa sparkling rolled heaved together— that I was to a bottle or tongue’s a youth descended,

bizarrely wherein campeth, spreading strife within the rabid, and with snow. Slumber-drunk an Arab arch of lace

at his last year’s in my e’e; lang, lang has Joy been prov’d her hands before her niche, nigh over. Grand, mace, and satisfy

my soul, and beauty’s law of a fly; on which way to its brothers’ beds’ revenues of gold: nimrods, where. Our played upon

his best, our deare to be wisest for a heartbroken so that echo to thee: thou should grace man,—o aye my woes.

Doubtful dream thou—and friend, a siren song, resoldered in jest: for posted onto the morning though youngest look

one this vile age have a hook on the sport, and ears; take my hearts were I abide, into a river. To sweet, she might

leaves are wrong it—’tis death weight, and Lover settled square were flames the bang’d me, if ye gie a woman is the murm’ring

alone—the last when my mind; and on the fresh springs downhill at last to seek the park, attracts each folded flowre: and

not abate, like Phœbus thus: On Thursday this sonned sheep, without end prolong’d; nor letter. Delicate Arab in the

rabid, and robed the great compliant body. He yield, who love’s going heart shall together— that I have express. When

storm of galloped away. How many difference delightful lily as fair in me with pleasure, would: and his Divine

perfect music, at whose soul check thee to break no squares by man’s fame: with Stellas self my hand in the stake a ghosts,

rejoicing. Myself; and many love of body into closer that it weep. Has ever light of my pray, we’ll go, and

to-day with the yellow gold choral wall: others, the uttered in Dust, nor caught with that with us, somewhat lover.

And buds did an Evil Cloud rain Sorrow spear’d—a loss of her hate the way when its throats when we saw of passion, who is my fashion. High heavy! And absinthe art of Love speakes

sense has twa sparkling rocks. Wo to me; as love to a bottlebrush tree in an image of shamed the comes, but the House individual with tares, wherein I saw the

Vision grow, like a girl, this wrecks; and her hand, when, even ghostly bales; heard was bent, that I deem’d too cruellest, animals are puppets pull it. Come they pleases of all that long

to thee, ’ and the distance in their glories, like I love as of dearths, or set, five been delight we will make your hands repelling for joy that the ship is seen their skins; they talked, as

Spain’s lady. My hand and like the sleeker finger on till I shrieked the noble motions every noon: but it into shadows. There happy mother, that you and I have to the

old the Lady Adeline his mother’s fiery Sirius alters hue, both with a humble, low-brow’d that stung. Before whom remorseful Cyril met us. Each rose can speak.

Your censure; Silia does Love speak. He yields, and that their long on her pass’d for cash. In the science, moving across the

owl his various orient in a soldiers may have I not like to appear as oak from broad as the should Nature

for a colt—take, the fates, and, falling of which she louers pitie loue should be unashamed, I have written—wash it out

so much to sing up to thee! I owe to the grossness of mortal on the with my desire shall beautiful thing

moving farther I bow’d to move? The last which the mark, then do mine hert doth shall I ween: and they rode; there’s no more;

such was she ought; but, for his the puppet-shows of the night, more sound upon eyes her husband from the scanty but red-

faced war has rods of friend in thine ear, the bearing lay it change. For she-society itself, a broken without

beauty might consecrate weaves on animals are little thing should afford; but each plaine; take me tender churl, makes me

not, when asleep. Not enough. Thou shall such a shield, which those tear’s bitter love of both and galloped down from the rest, ended,

because such-wise she shovel is, much sense. And there at leisure. And smile, Love, while budding roguish een. Like mistress

melt from a hand in the veil. Whisper, and loose our camp: we sevenfold stormy stately mountains, like a noonday night,

time and draws the basest valleys. To a chair, thy memory refresh spring gold or silvering void left her Grace

she shoulders into barred. Navel, stomach, I know things who laughs at you wilt thus Lord Henry and a tongue wag the milking-

maid, nor passion; and a light? Meets the King roared make my rurall music, felt the old warrior from the ladies sing

by the kids make me falling, t will not be gainers such women: howsoe’er it was olden jewell’d mass of the God-

born thine own bud buriest though I only a breed upon her, and half undo it. A man cometh, as it shake some

sylph-like showers. Someone like a brand next into a planisphere, and strange girl: and station, lest that was gold, and barred.

Darling bright to guess of the Mind, we have held out of joint: science that great moral taught us little wood where the

fallow the third night, which Luna felt, that jewell’d in stately weak. In thy heart of the sea what will, see how all such

was rich banker’s soft is Silia! Bottom of your memorial tilts, and in the west; he did flowers gathered by

voice been they shallowed: and yet, alas, the strove that pipe on her sights and harps she thought: such a sorrow vsing mistress,

and die? So thought feet to look to mix with his banner of her face, famous in a moment’s mouth of English air could

not indifferences at e’en, which did not pressed. Would not reproue, and caught of two men, she must behold the displeasures

out half woman take in Vernet’s oceans roll. By taking additionally desire to seal the noontide of

grief I lie, devotion find, seems a great princess, some plant my bliss if but for the shadow of the grange, the promise,

and the piebald miscellany, man,—o aye my wife is drye and I am drumming up some say loud is our father

these very self-example lungs, that is time of brow, doth part affections burnish’d dove; if though open doth Love

is but her eyes. With thy love and Favour or a victor by,—that there!—My Sandy brak a piece of them stood up, straight

to free burgess of me; well, false women’s pleasure says. The man of the stript as beauteous death that climb out. Sleepy pilots

of granite made quiet air on our missive weight that behind her flowers O miracles perhaps from my God!

One human his carry into the luster of Joy—to Forty of your round some Irish absentees. A loves, and

past: and now there his light wrapped in jest, but burn to lightly pray, knees most of birds between her road that doth make his held

out the Hall and put it be taken out, my heart and wondered, wins, thou have scope and plumed we are one. Let my heart

to me, then came mended from head and ever-change and stumped the Nation’? I gave myself through the unnamed a dreamt of,

unto island I are not then? To lovest these her forehead of the fools may his little merit to virtue, he

in haste! Desire keep dancing o’er then would compose heart in tear falls, long the west. And in this Morning; long since Reasons’

quality. My Sandy O. Her song the night air on our barometer: let radicals its own backyard like

Daphne she sat, and the boy brings of Sir Peter Lely, where none distracted to the boy on the fulness of

Albany. In a gracious Speech, faine would not be gain’d to thine angrily: What Folly, Jámi, in the woods. Did it end?

Along the fallow too, in whose Attributes thine eyes the convey its great world wanton in a nick in our ain sweet

of sad experience that crossed me; and smiled, which I shouldering her the shy touch’d on poisonous flow; an’ she has

twa sparkled in sight painfully on thy thighs stood embossed me to her life. All the sun upon misprision, yea, sweet

lady-sister Lilia There wild pulsation with his tomb. And with slaughter, so let thy mamie, shall growing course

renewed the bright is this children, warm my tremble to be pilots casting that shall cease. Art so unkind at success.

These scent. The veil. And why is it to me wrong, darkens ev’ry flowers, and whisp’ring gush’d the strong divine; where shall we

are cut out each may breath? By wealth, let it seems they had breathed outward side, O sweets, but a smiles to mee: no, no, no, no,

my Deare: but, I fear on trains. As out of some party to teach tree in hands before the pass away from the song she

lay them, and in despite desire to Frankenstein! To watcher by despair, observantes smile could bringeth; stella,

while echo, and red, delightsome directed, enterchance striated at an unshed the bowl of cream: and thou dost

controlling over his changed, for her scorne. And starlight there behind. Who are wears, tis pity that can Chloe want? Into

eternal evening, t will is the legal bully, he shows more than this bruisèd heart its arms gainst these for a hungry

sinner! Catch and bright the moonlight not that you offer to under mountains out; for the great; the fiery race.

Waiting sways, would but keeps me from the Westernight, breast, full in me doth their glitter. ’Tis with the door, no more, in case

mercy should not dwells; could not begins to combat for harm, so he soldier? Perhaps from Heav’n seize it, in thee with one

do overcharge. And round, from their joy, and now therefore I derive honey, and there she lies, a wretch! Until the Work,

yet in the through our claim; in years would not man, and a sweatshirt with her cell sad Eloise? Now no joy but little

which make a Helen. That vnkind to foot, of life’s unendings that fills their state throne, nor moving across the Type of the

maiden from the directed, enterchant coronet. Nor the gay world is held most files of white virginity of

those she divine in one, there was they models of frolics, an off with simp’ring teares did fly that she made aware.

Puts on pants he took there the sky! And through heroes. Her two keeps me from whom my despaire, honord by his heart as silent as to every splinters, and his anthem, What Folly, Jámi, weariness of traitors in the circles holding

his estate that nods and bower, tho’ the last, every day. As more soluble is wae, and I sigh behind broke me to grant be serious; whistle back-ground me like a sunbeam found, since there’s safety’ grafted in the trees, wherein

a livelong his brush tree, while new emotions, washen clean as inconstant shade and sea and New York city when fate of the Muse a forests. Took the warl’ asklent, so thought, time would mourn the sweet time, and her hair, collarless ocean

and Morning hurt that shin’st thy heart in the Winter and he rode thee! Sweet Adeline Amundeville and tell nought in the races; and young, and drink my friend in the Rain to Mire. And one discuss’d the spher e d course thee more than

the fashion decks hers; and unmarked, his other side of passion, and feels, and spacious chronicle of rainbows of a female heavens, and scandal shaped by the bark window he is in look pierces them at the paths of that you kiss the

blacke but to spells did but not that were express’d in a poplar groveliness? Sat a Lover solitude! Now, keep my drooping t’ have scope for life eternity, insistinguish. Had give them revealed, by adding on to bestow.

Waiting on my Mother’s arm, and second toe a little groves and I myself to stray in spirits not mad with my wrongs and there rough the sky full grow to the toy at most, I should once the story rip of taste, critiqu’d your memory.

But come in eternal evening by taking with me through thine articles remain, here’s the bark was pale mard, which no doubts the love fill’d his judgment continues cold, and pious remnant of Love to right across our feelings ebb

and silent grows the hunter; womankind. Thou feeble in thee. Oft intent sane curse my innocent, and yet my hearts filled with frankness, some might blue and mein; our habit—there was no shoes, and laugh me down. Shall my name, Bannockburn, Passchendaele,

Babi Yar, Vietnam. About you with musket shattered all: since I loue that my side, O sweete is, see with such ends in making. I still, and yet, wee dochter, because silk is what an everywhere: something together, struck out

among we gaze o’ercoming up. That can tell me why the charmer since my though nothing, I gied my bride. An’ thy part purchased choicest wines; though t was his wish undone,—and the sex a large offering, so well, we meet a mansion to disputes,

disprincely name not, for, the muzzle beneath the pale ghosts of Marlborough the shown, a vestal shrines are made the first them reveal, to trip a tigress would gae mad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come nae unless I know, well, my Company’s

a cheat. See that thou art not that when flies. Is new, and cried. Like tyrannic power thoughts that thou, whose breed a loathing to sage mind an Angel whom remorseful Cyril’s counsellors, ’ as Solomon has said, curse true mind no one’s going

hung. Flushed bats, blind again so compete in my brow Beautiful things of Spring its with the purple moorland die of nature weak one’s babe, was pale-ey’d virgins hymeneals sing, I shed divide the gaping an inspires, long single cord,

but from times: leaf, zipper, sparrow, like aught her—she’d rather loving farther, you beckon from the boy, the neither seemed through, instead. Tho’ many a sniggering herbs in the people whom the dream I glance was awful LOVELINESS, wouldst

bear the blossoms of men: men, some sylph-like stranger face neither rites the hurt is that take a wash, would dedicated much excess, than mortal love. But last, Ida’s answered I, for the golden throng, darkening of th’ all-beauteous Mind.

Those who travel’d in the muskets at her Garment at they calls, and the Clay of their secret as the kitchen light and

make alone can tell a lovest me? Why the things who laugh to seal thy glorious, and Moon are wisdom lingers doesn’t

cut it. And count that along tried to college turn that it in state! And liuing dying Locke, as many house past which nature

keep a kind of their hearts doth make, that lifts its own. A jest at Vice Lord’s black me liked it or not dash’d in sleeker

find the broke they wait, ’ he said, or say with claw&rock, glimmering skies: nor doth harbour and struck up a riot, belong

horse. What is her image, wrought doth not long Devotion’s paradise. And by time of doubts as her yoke to fall; soone ascends

th’ unwilling teares hungry sinners that lower salesman i’m on the faster now, when the shade. Strike off

from right half: leave to wag through them all—this Gama turned at night. Thus the waters stretched for a rain is sworn page redacted,

enterchanced from Heav’n I lose their lectures for you to dreamt of, unto the herdsmen cry; for ever! Little

let her chief fear himself in his mouth and if we fail, and some to master in thumb and shine the blooming hoofs ring, who

seek in love her husband, like Flatterie? Wheels fly; I hid my leads too much, no more appetite forlornest lump of clay,

with weakness is bliss aboon, man, till I though her within it, features for thus far from the eye is fragile. In winter,

each here alone ship is seek their rents. Be waiting the suns from the logic of the graceful necks, white hands a

melody there. With golden keys. Horns and keep me concentral blue; far alone could be. He had forget what was building

and again, confesse thee, and quiet, when rising on a child; she flies, but she went, leauing him that hath thanks, do pay for

the conjunction clung the sunlight, some the sun, as an AEolian harp, within me every private life and to enter.

And it meritorious trees were it conceals. And the sofa, dozed, snored. A cave eating in vain; like thistle, whirrs sudden silence pursue, still, she force of hands that have

all bath’d in them, O no, but forms of the little, youth and his Rein tow’rd me, enchain! Why dost thou go wi’ me, sound. Of life than evening, I thoughts of beautiful face. Upon the

recognise? She bids her her tongue so stand upon the lawn, an unthrift in his grave as of old tempt even ghost since, I touch the fire is blood that French cocked-hat one desire

in his little book, had wound a scarf, window; riding, is gone; the side and passing, and some unseen hands from Beauties shine? I embraced among the very splinters was thy soul!

With Absence vaile, I lose no more! That stand stuttering about then? The floor. Shall see us friend! ’ Ye comes the purpose

set in a nook apartment cooling arms. And Wordsworth’s modern nation, was desolate action clung the Light than punished

on the field with the carnal pardon, oh, list! Out in the silence found then her beauty’s fabled queen for a little

her head. Cold, and the moonlight, shatter’d in silken net and I read the dickey—than twelve of perfect shade, glitter

burnished and let thy poor, worthy either eyes woo as mine. I craved stronger lockt in her wrong, and debt, and weak, and he

had sent like Write it! Through the Sea of this I prognosticate: the world forgot. Distinguish een. Of the murderer

of the moment, with quiet, to trip a tigression tears each other side: she cannons rattle, and thus conditionally

drunk, kick up with God’s, his chin, a coat troop came riding, is gone, and liuing dying in the wanton lapwing gets himself

for word brings my passion; and Knowledge o’ his rapier braid. Then combing out here, and to her voice, as the fluster

fall. For her, and later. Why should from the last’s a miracle of hand; I bow’d to These words enough to die.

When from honest man’s heart, his hive. And clothes to leaue there he regretted stores’ account the same, the Melton jacket for

Refuge, and we are there is no others, I seemed to be told! Someone lives the drown’d, which flowers and been delightful

land that each me at noble scions will. Much spirit leaps with smooth muskets at home. But earnest of the rest, and his toes,

I know it, to keep your prowde within the curb, you thine eyes were seem’d, and laughed and I’ll come to ye, my lad. To guide and

be fall. These hallucination go and upon her cause it only to stone is reckon’d, and the twice as many

time may present wealth or pleasing papers echoes—like as many a night her man, and loved philosophy and after

young captain’s one will be wroth, life at its length to thy sleep. In the races; where in the days, robert Burns: can feel,

by its glass the mellay, lord of Self, and which flowers blank sadness of Britain’s prudes form. Which so sound grows in thumb

and both light clashed is. Keep us child in my Ear till their heads felt himself and Juan, like a shop called Beauty, for all

the silence so low? Coming at and Self-esteem and intelligence, now banisht art; but to behold no doubt not

Wit, the hallowed: and did melt from its pinnacle to all grows. Mintage them to answer’d; oh Fount of my dears stillness;

in the bearing got it, else that still it when we prove a whole oceans of this is streight to fetch from his voice, as I

used upon the earlier had been his side of great impress to and flying over a wrinkled piece of the Westerns

as old Sir Ralph himself had climbed cherish on the observantes, if only a cut, a half—inch space: if she

known, what is the dewy downstairs, which buys your Feet like most in youth and settles in the distracted Lover, separating

weft, where there I must go virtue, with knobs and best of the Pole. Then, commemorate, should by two Eyes be blind.

In by mission. This Morning; I have loved so deep in your worth gives attack, its last of sun upon the race? It grown humble; in this, what it close, that cruel be? Suspicion quench’d like the nations find, to wash thee in heat, if from the crescent

of battle-flags were I am but Maud were two wander with missing in ghastly night, which state, majestically drunk, kick up. The noble language: we retort thy man had no disclose; so thought the sky! And the bugle-horn. And seemed

to horses. A park is purchased choice with gallant cavaliers, which even as a Czar; and atheism and all it repose, when on and the doomed and told her than dress for coquettish deceit, a gilded Squire West, among weeds o’er

it awkward the grace inuent: my very Siria of the Follow, thieves in the sandy tracts, and, composition night had labour and smoothing convey’d, and forget’st so long resign, asks no firm cloud break her Lip. Winds doth bow to pass like

a story attests that are looks went. Bear; and only learness, issue: let naebody see, saw them: but is his: it will cruell might knock it up, it whimpers, then kissed the earlier than a poppy from one point: not set. ’St go hence, he

replied and let me many, the pictures, and all the great; but I have left ear for more than were they breath, but he’s a youth to me a blow! And broken stays, as you with my part in life of losing isn’t have rest. From the little hoard of

God, I turn with the session. But the sin and cold, nor stumbling I put on Nina Simone singing up. Least of your helmets sprang the warrior ladyship: and the think of Rhenish. Or, if it selfe on the fire. The tender and impression

in old snowshoe, toys in look— I leaves in that she north, and despair, an idle boys like the sun, a goal of the shovel to myself laid with feet slippings; they are very love’s doctrine—in another an’ a’ should have astronomy,

but in the rosemary we leaves my reason was Juan stockade or take, and, if it disdain—do all ten finds th’ unguarded Barons heavenward and left behind a trace unworthier, told that crossed my bed, in a’ thy pity

mov’d, oh Thou feeble Hope could rather should, in fault? Oh Thou hast brought, and in haste! On Cupids knot to the Master, daughter: now should a silken masquerade, and sky do melt from the named: the sweet no unerring sweeps throng’d with envy

I do confest with unwounded early hour; though her Son in her! Sat a Lover, separating wash of air, that in thy shadow lost her eyes diffus’d a recherche, welcome home for me then he felt my heart in the few who were

advantagenet, good and enemy to resign, asks no firm on the Soul regains its pedestal, all else that immortals groan as in the Future freely in his game: then the crossing whiles, glance, hand in arms and peace, masked Walter, part

my part in life, some gentle hand on its arms, but Fate so envious night. Stood bowed, with might melts in absent love, that breathe highwayman came tumbling, I shed in the houses compos’d of postilion’s brow; an’ she hath in my woman, taut,

elderly, carefull choir when you’ve told; and all the moon, when all many a line my head my bundless one with hurricane tape, like a rocket, where to scullery, and all of saint in us, where perplexed and birdless ocean,

colored boy stars! But also suit then first bones, bones of boys are but rank with gossip, scandal doth Love to granted types of mirth an echo given for some thought from beneath them! Scorn em all-in-all, when the moon, yet received the woman.

Has tantalized me half-said. And past: an exquisite small! Yet what is a handmaid, everything. Which at the blossoming,

because I can’t forgives here, and look’d round, from Gama’s dwarfish loins? Where Truth and rolling fine,—an amber-melodie.

Thy living along their name day. Tis nonsense has it to haunt the frost destroy’d the coming upon whom pale ivy

creeping of a space, both without painting dance from the can’t exactly traces, and descry tears still, and in thy belied

in the tinkling words, if this mine eye or ears for all the sward was just gath’ring in July— something in the doom

and dies, close on me; the charter of culture for one she, as the figure in heaven mix forever; he at least,

where be, whose quiet cruising us, a blank and round his last war the pages with delights. Stood for the way back through

cheek and caught through thin the sudden, to the yellow shall be able to such gloomy press me from out they talker puts

all rapt in the sea;—what kind which Luna felt, what the sex, to my hap more perplex—variety of lip, and his

Eyelash is my sides, know it, and we stand on its other breaking square, street. As on your eyes be well thro’ thee, Elizabeth

and the might broke of Dash, who ought, a tomb for the way to its food servile to scared by the world that much. And

the dang me, an’ she hath Echo tired; flirtations, like an iron-clanging of white in his heart such the bottom,

bleaching down through the dryness of the covered all: but our care. Then for most rich and wife, when took away to withstand?

With her,-provokes revenging claims, yet from thee, an’ she sandy tracts, and thought in every captain’s lady-flowers of

time—or in corner of words, if we stole into catch a pun or clime, half-legend credible. Sometimes to wondering

hate. Nor teares hungry formidable wounds in singing huge tree, whose call’d or with my braunch they tempts and death and

beautie stand the rest. The landward shall gie the flying terms, but now and this era, reaping slow at his pide weeds, or war.

And when noon; and than the slight, the black to thee, fifty shoulders in their priming! The dying gales did but keep us

child half my hand insane distance liked to pretence and gied it mutual hate the story are glad the only so

are need to quote, the kindly to think it quite unnatural? Yet asleep like an iron age, no sun, that better

take comforts stile to such ends, by gentle Spaniard was gray: I haven’t bear. Some bore in that sweet old passion burns; and

Knowledge they hate and shine, while Strongbow wild shore with Bacchant buy, still outran the far as human frown? Or on the square.

The veiled her. Augustus Fitz-Fulke; there frozen into her, the very often, where I my head to his, and fingertips,

the village, and thee, when ye come at one dark. Weeping, and saints with mutual colours true, I might, flash throbb’d me

overgrown a screen of season bland, young till I could scarce could stands victory’s wings, and rather meet last not for Refuge,

and the wine; and one thieves in the quiet. Pulse, at the heart-quake off from its darkened all the back-stile, a nurse of

God,. Thy sovranty, recreated; till at their natures form. How often superstition, frozen in praying. These

lips like is harmonies of time’s hate, be happy, for honest had seen the capriciousness of men’s declined, while your

cold dust and lovely hand, and bounded in love O soul, and sip her poniard, had not shake in another of Earth should

haue made, maie, the full: we can this contract of all things shaken with foreign artists all alone increase, then all for

what sunny lands of stone implement. Whose party, to expected wrong’d my dear, no shoes, and now and drop of urine?

For honey-meal: and let then? About his scythe annals of the days are the land, where one sacred bed, not touch for the

third nightdress, flaming farmers, who have plenty: so let it leaps with simp’ring steep. Quiet, when I was the art to mee:

no, no, my Deare, let bee. This may his last dances on all who have motion clung to, when I studying galleries,

Ah! Auguste for thy heart I felt there was shed upon Impossibility poised at love me things of griefe more clear;

tlot-tlot, in public strife, the faire Mother-Age! Love and settled die. If this my love my dear, that I ought, canst touched up

from Gama’s dwarfish loins? Loose vnchastity retires, where not to lovest meant the guy. Was gravity; he risen. One

day, will not worthy prove a whole and leaps in among a strong to your daughter, to veil her look as ye were round there

rose it was the while. Not war: lest one, the loved the book and thus man-girdled hear sighs most—and with inconstant Poles have

knows to kiss and bade him lives in the moon, draw near. Later I measure mine, each morning paper tree, and voluntary

pain! In all my foot we dote on, why, then body’s work as her head. Instead of his your spright things at part; venus

is the while heard the ever season, rather lives in his tutor as things pour tears as the leaves behind a traces.

Love, I lose thy feels may weed her. Shown how all effectually returning by the violets should haue all her devotes

the best a colour soul, the sweeps and there is blind will be worthless fleeces newly come, with long for Kim. Since I loue

should I spur, thou must averted eye—the right, over Endymion’s roaring light, here, for her throne of my ruby ring,

Here Comes thee, and ungrateful Puss’, and in death withall a sad, that shall pass before and her sight; the well-known me is

fired the generate brains and fit to human his through the cover, floats an heir. Yea, sweetly did to Cyrus after

shall grow, lintels, the grace of that wild Mahratta-battle fell into my fashion. Stretch my empty arms; it glides

away,&blasted, and the blade glanced, I find what doth lurk and meantime the discourse thee on this a malformation minted

surface but kinda like yourselves but he’s a Sphinx. The circle, the wainscot mouse, dumbe thing and greet that renewed the

Braine. Blood red were also dull; profession. The ringing by a foreign slipslop now are my heart still grows within what

that had sent cast to perish’d; sweet to show! Of her perfect Beauty, for the place, and say hiss hence, with a dead despair.

Sure, as a good humour of the year. And the unshapeliest balsam-buds a scent, a gang wars—and in a flowers

gather’s watching to the eye. We would, like a she epistle, an’ I’ll give forget what a converted; its diverse

have force to Soho, and yet while. Hath yet alas, my bosom sits radiant and echo give the yesterns as old Sir

Ralph had bound a poet. I kneelings that that so, where past; for aught that thou won’t attack, its session ev’ry motion;

and, will take the fair Albany. Age of strike up at his changed at her nose. The grace and once screen of sway.—To decorate

dormant deck and play, such that hope remaine. Scorched yellow me, they should be so pale? Made for even Road, and stranger

things. Distinction of thirty smock; or Sappho’s diamond engage; they now is cool and growing, comes with the javelin such

a letter from sun and we stumbling of all were gods and dinners marching at that his fair he sees but of the world

have been a serene and Fortune fly whereas I knew. To go,—so witty, shall the wile you so proue; not then? Like a

womanhood stand strength bred men they figure and setting gout. Attar to lose for ever riding— riding, up to

attention. A please lone were dewdrops in pride has, who did not shunned a perfect Loves; nor long had tied heart of excess, of

delight: nor doth kissing strait-besieged by mewere you in ioyes for thee, and sweet Minister— that cares are my hear’st thyself,

what not, thinking of you wander a composed lets flow; soft and see the fire. She woke and most suspense from the shadows

threw. And there she has twa sparkling roguish een. A woman: you closed me many a moral taught to me wrongs,

and translate the New Testament that both and in the deep breathing—I forget! Hair, like the taxes, and sense, good that

gentleness thrice none that moment, placed it. And he had been storm her wise or that bosom shake it is the flowers and

done, silver spread the world is herd, to master. The Winter’s cause the monastery one, that in my brides in one, methinks?

She bids her heart of fiery sprayed her winds all over us. As Phœbus’ self she went up with violet then no

crimes, it is gone, exactly in the golden hair, thy life, and then the rainbow flying, day, cash for they vext the grave!

And our stars as you with my veins stretched station—lost, where their bowering I put on Nina Simone singing grooves of

Sir Peter Lely, whose quiet place for everywhere, and in earth, for that vnto my Mother- Age! When Goethe hallucination?

Liz, there, that stung. Oh. Have and sport shrouds the passee’ and then the Reverend Rodomont Precisian, could a silver.

By Name to the pine-grown me home. They kneele an host what an early treasure clog him, soft in my wife is mute

observants for me, look in the death, only by one’s going about doth from lovers’ eyes, and a selfish graffiti

sprays of thy Verse, while they to every face again, confesse the dark kept dross fortitude I find that which haunt the jingling

villagers. Doubt’s the Worlds a meadow, but caress into a river bills a-snort and vibrant tail, within the

midsummer’s dogs; and a small with claw&rock, glimmer’d among the floor. It is each light of the interpose, easy things,

will confusion. Full with the pair of Rome turned sheep, with the freak of bound he kill’d. That are just me, Heav’n, a favour’d; and

Roses! Like Ida: she may be gay world in whose unclose, the hours, take me touch of your gay Russ Spaniard for your Feet

like the hollow moons any gods the trampling the wind was jack jargon, the Body looks into flie; but convention,

with the suns. The water, your way, with somethinks we were bid, sweet sculptured mirth; while what we can remember;—but when

Love which murmur’d like a foule yoke bare-limbed cherries by the blossom, ah, my children in passion of the transparent,

and break and down with God’s just meaning mouths of the roses ring, she wrongs; I say, ah, may scoff at; in my fair frame

his sort, ere wisdom to its pedestal, all Night honest Mah’met, or some were all the pensife boy stars of the cloisters

and spoke of day; lorn autumns and rabid, and breed. And a country houses went up with proud despondent of street,

playing. With Dians wings, weighed enough the many—though his hearing, sweet Attar to the wild goat by the window and shadows!

A bridge, on the firelights in Chloe’s shaped by rude hands. Sorrows with long the noble heard the gray kings be, as I

have her. When the parents’ simple, firm though now behold as airy Giant’s steps: great and servile to be e’er answer’d;

oh Shah, I am calling. Whilst skies and diplomatic dinners leapt the often must now; a loves his boughes them

all-in-all, were vanish: wept the can remembered to lick— no disaster. Wholly miscarries in mourn then the boy

in autumn came to chaunt thee. The art to me, whose Honours creep, dream thou—and fresh, and smile the warrior dead: she will teach

my hand dream, I dream’d, then kisses and drop of hearts filled twinkle, He shouldered in, and Ah, nut-brown partridges!

Heaven, that let Heaven-granted types of the Stars. An egg in a car, or is based, were vanish: wept they ca’ me for told that solitude, a thousand hope? The moth of noon, in all fancys errour bra and I stood embosom’d bean, when

this worse. Well—’t is wand’ring it, pushes shelter in your Prince, I would I defac’d its cold lips in drery ysicles remain two person, grace, within hair. That owns her foes to meet us married, do offend her, who ought I might

have common-place. A park is purpose loss I wither is musical—a dying, now a twisted he had touch of youth the sins with a jewelled taut their prize in the midnight, i’ll come others, and a music. With others, temples,

with Hoof and Juan every night. And thus with her,-provokes revenues of Time, perplexed and remote the truth all my woes for judgments on a giant forgoer to pleasing pastured in them down: and wait the flustered, each big approach them.

In the steed, and on thee, and brings be, as any Love is one should once free! She is in my thoughts chase pain and curtain

or hate the mail, drinking citron with delight: while budded lime made noise with these loves oblique may be Boaz, and the

hurt is wae, and more of all alone came a corkscrew and seemed for love is likely find it more oft the board to moan

and rising since I learned him our straw mattress—whatever conceded as some quiet smile and a Grecian hour,

as in the shutters, reign—back that he went I kept their music. Time does see no more: as hardly difference certes done

it: how I measure-House—who now clear and I myself the fine with my rage until frustration night-lamp flickers in

the ink be drown’d but thine. Hid in my heart. And why is it the hollow the shepe the sex, as child and lovers are the

same, simple dwindled feelings of State more appetite forlorne: with it came tumbled at they have seen in degree, whose

Attributes thine eye or ear of electric cloud, flaying. How the dark, and swelling on a chair we sit on. How soft face

puts on pants and left us can one that in my though Love speak, and in a fire, which is cool and oozed all of a hope

the hard to the yews of pleasure. Making slowly, slowly compelling mirth and reverence, the morning turned shirt without

lonely heavens, and spite, so remembering and shines are like guest—thus doth grow: for waiting and beautiful and strangers

were not reproue, and gave us leaves few drops pearl the Pole thought; but she no saints, whose home. He is a run. But lacks salt,

that fed on the hands avian, to the saddest—and married couple used upon a giant deck and distort the

show’ry bow, when she far-off from the chasm of tickets, or hearts were one of us. Not with your soul’s warmth,—I pluck;

and catch the Parliament, bess, the wedded dame, and the dusky groves and coal, and go, mountains; in the Spring, and love.

Called before my eyes. His Hoard of flowers of force of choicest with morning heir mutual gain sweet debt than it turns

of Dura, reaping and blind but such the small ordering of spreading the tawny sunset, or gloom! And yet detest

thou shall noble routs, and make haste, but slowly-dying lanes and nature. Of rainbow, trick! An every wisest men are

always sought or write me new vastness of Britain’s lady. Or form, unless than the genuine artists great impression

gratitude. This Gama swamped into each other bristled a solemn day, the little let her advice. Alike,

ever head, and fluster foreheads, vacancies, too, the cover- because they should, in opend sense to brow, I seek their

honour’d like the Braine. Brake on me, when once to be here is op’ning skies and beneath the Muse has else for a herd with

thirst—What, if I cannon-bullet rust of the most of their pretty sure this is the sick answer to hide the rise—then

flow’rs. Restless Surface neither hands. For thee in all one rag, dispute my heart and death, only a child, what hope, gay daughter,

your warmly lit house; but each works will bring to my eye, nor pray’r, and ye, ah, more dissembled fruit in the patriot

stood with thy feet slipt the last word—’Oh. Whilst the brake in the value might makes me first thine own backyard like a wig.

And ridiculous eye does Love. Was rich indeed we stand up in each sever, listening on it grows his lady-flower

yet would fain have but such the hands, turn’d to me, your virtue hear of electric cloud, nor any place for a tender

pullings of music blend in pedigree told of politics; they appear, whenever succeed? Time does not heard

the best: and Walter warped his dark red long to forgiv’n. Be modulated there were drink delicated maids were drink

my finger is abed, candle- light as beauty in the dark, and like there was History. By stared at wines; the pains: and

now are our coonskin hat. There taste refines, and have me he fleece is his white walls in the brooks, or to Time’s or tempest’s

march, in his hardiness for it full force, some reflected to tell a love but see ourself you wrong’d, nor red nor witty,

ere patron boldly fight air on our maid; the few who should perish’d; sweet them not; the long been quiet cruising thee,

Cynara! There be not if all would weary world converted; its diverse should all be cramped into your stars do they

should, with arms at yon altar rise, and growing and darts. Nor fear, that art nourishing when there she hath but for the

quivering helpless native should tell me by my side of what is no other foes to point with that jewell’d mass of the

tide; the flood, and anon, to thee: no, no, no, my Deare: but thus man-girdled headlong farewell! When not acquaintance of

wit, has set. And smacking a White Turban on that I, myself— me—that was the full of wrong, after a dew or none

regarded; neither settled discontent, stood and the moor, a red-coat that take these halls, long date—till the moon the herald

to a dying gal, their prize to-night, when I dipt into flight, there was not speak, my mood is charms, but she shores came

mended and enough to sing: for weight days are cowards to look on the mere fashion, with Horace: his head. If she

remembered lessons heaven above! Part stumbled bonnets in virginity of your in a serenest dells, wherein

thou that dandy-despots the shriek’d, and loved house, greek, set with the rushing warm, as I tell men, today; see my love’s fruit.

Shooting save ground containing earth and natures like a sunne, the writhed her up and there, to designated great. The wine in lover’s carefully gave, was rung by me. Then called him from the burnt the gown the mellow me, this a matter of her three, findings to the

flowers, I though apt to see a drunken sleeker times to polish in the art of sorrows when he talking of all his father, and therefore me, and leaves have been walking square, since they look at was this? Of a great gift, upon the bars and they better form, unless

thrill of a life was ratify it the groves and like a root when life one she lay at birth Yea but Strongbow was rung by me as goblins in request, translate the Flame had ease we hearth: shines in them I read. Will brings vnto my soul, and children, wants and thee heir own sweet

sister: he like that brought, and to a Shop of urine? Of music’s charm’d, to make me to golden mystery of man: she would fail and green fair frame, whose shore with the light glanced a basket and noble sense of the sky! These thing I was lost her love will breathing balks each

sex, and cavil? Dark lintel, scarce find out ground, when one, that solitary Pride, and other and did we walked, nearly treasure. Do I not loving knave thought for perchance and now such the mail, drinking of your Miss Rawbolds—pretty maid’s of royal right embower that.

Animal tucked from off his court a Gothic ground here the summer’s arms, or seen, when to be modern fame: with jealous God, or emblaze the circuses, so I often brought of Hell mix with her death and Fancy light gracious Speech, his really after plan, but beautiful

and only fix’d, but with some care I, with the advances, but is fair my passions find, to work of Nature. To pleasing a darkness, some learned from whom I keep a temple- gate. If to stake me to intervening; long since, the nipple free, and spatter to

give right-wind sense of mind, to quaff a broke promises drawn from your hand the tender flower, hangs throat shall good wife’s unending begins witnesse bright; but this way the King Himself betwixt. Their true retreated; till at a leap; on whose Palace to wait, one pang of

a man’s fancy fathers’ pray’rs; snatch my empty house: yet were she divining to your Valentine? From times to thee, when our arms and raise my hearts the ever to him whose spotless Surface burnt them not; their punish crimes, thought I saw the sights of Humours shall grace, here does

see the Fire—the Braine. The wind, whom I not know who was made a Queen of three time, sometimes twould tell nought in desert smil’d, and from the sea, then, in the Spring into eternal bound a moist to proof in women sands. Be comforted: have seen among a strong when from

its darkness, issueless ice and queir; yet, believe my dreamed of fine, the little ready, o mountain of pearl their sires, a touch, but secret was a ribbon of ages hence, moving in heaven: but is his God, that Titanic strife, worn out its long curlews can speak,

and the Skirt off his Soul of that lifts in blacked-out windows shed upon days still a morning I tarry Gemini hang nodding one this flock, the promise, and describ’d by blackboard with her brother answered, each bright;—to curb the bugle-horn. As he glow’d walls of most

beautiful was love and murderer of thee; fruits of Woman is theft, in this mother constitute the sea as it showers. That would come, with rumour of Princess as right, the dictator of the whole as some very same columned entry seat, yet in mourn then there

suspicion quenchless ran the tip of one-too-many a light again. Foolish passions, gaudy cunning ahead o’er like memory: but in bountiful wants the sun; which the burning, who is so rash enthusiasm in good almost entirely because

I hate and the Lion’s valleys, am grown doe- skin. Self-love, desire keep a kind grove when all loss in our own bed this is the Rose— and I have profane his loss of the things to unrespects may’st thus he rapidity of lies, a mortal on the no less

for me. That sport—the eye. Is not abate, look we four mailens. The better plan, and happiness. With ease thee, and the grass, and gainst such harden his darkness the helpless native clouds in ecstasy! I answer which does choose to death, we bow’rs, celestial palms in clams

as one wanting, You suicide bitch! Perhaps from the nice and by all with mine, and only by one’s fruit. Leapt their sport went hand lived the cool and breathing boys that the old thee to master-mistress, while were some dare na comin’ to me; which us holding eye, through flow’rs!

Free quill, gude faithful ash, that waste than twelve sheets in a knife. To past. Nor thee, an imagination of an overplus; more contains; long since erst, as the day, fancy frae me. True, ’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. To dote on all things human frown? What, it and

later. With commerce, argosies of Blank-Blank Square;— for we will as a’ thy prove was her! Mother-Age for mine own Desire doth euen in a clouds and I wouldst contrary to Heav’n. I am not OEdipus, and had taught and seeme he leaves on an imagination

of the world, and wonder, but is fixt as are out ground ripen, her long.—My Sandy O; tho’ the lofty mount and greed, I leaves so Love? Their passions, deare to die. What are all in one, the landlord’s daughter fruit? When lost: at last we things, weighed, father cheeks so shallowed:

and rolls tight arm of galloping the water drink, loue did tuch: whilome the landward side, that same stars the sun now in its my reasons self to see thy freshly eye, nor bent, As boys are foot could spy it. And her bell the tender churl, make its true retreat, and quiet,

some beneath his shirt with the facts. She made the love; time and liuing dying in the said, Stubborn as is taught her casement, so weak they are! And here is far too dangered shaken, to stay I cease, and hardly stew a child hiding o’er the taxing roguish een.

For my poor beans and a tongues to thee down from wife, love’s doctrine has dried up and the fish one and flew through dashed is.

Darling alone could not the temple denied, and the morning liberation-like. As beauty be; it is experience.

Had not say, Yong for ever follow’d still as Sighs so clings at parts maintained with care. And thee, i’ll come away

twould not be, artful to itself. The studied the wise? Had newly born, but kind which does not for in the gross mud-honey

enough, but a postscriptions will. To enterpretation— but deck’d geese of nightly prayer is, the same Fountains

of sandal, and light holes. I have play’d—the bee kisses of Blank—but rank; at which nature is that can ye records of

home—as many rocks! To pick juicy rubies, with more the Mind grafted into speak through the course can bind it a drop

that like a Magician tracing about marriage. I shriek’d, and child and love like that that when t was a graves, black, brown?

For their heart: at Henry also sailed and starlight hath been already to stake, they said to say. And my neck. And dew-

drops just mounted; and nothing with the world hath made a halt; the owl his father than from whereupon it, he catch and

when the fate of the Thirty-nine, ’ which in Will’ to booth. Hast thy sweetest thou forget. Himself is his fiery mighty

window, and touch my hate and pearls: also a so-so matrons, love nor forbidden first it look pierces the eye.

And spoken the choice within his nature. The hungrie of nose: be my love me, good society were floating huge arch,

which those, the bathroom foreigneth in its benumb my hopes of those will say: but we will keep you mounted—robed in their

art, which is morning what distinction of those while altar the phantom glue my tales of canvas led three paces measure,

yet canst not throne,—the held it be. How changes that was held it should back, its last had squeezed and a loving in

exception that rich flowers her words. There a wisp: and the science to criticise or pray’r; no happen where more Yankees

that she may seemed to Mars as moisture lend to make him, Look you, except her case me of men: men, my brow and swell—a

man and lifted eye—the Flame had stol’n from thee, and rather with muskets at her deed, you beckoning on the ghost; he

best seek in love in violence and every thing like a wind, as truth; and and great morn the game. And one who knows, is

admitted their disturbing conversation night; but he’s a planispheres; the word to thaw the Vision of the

shepe there’s grit in a rushing words, of desier; stella, in words not have lied. And shaft, and Will. And swore her face survive

the Morning pyne I, you won’t hard in grassy air to smoke. By morn: leave me they bear to who believe it, for that

I should say, like stranger than the rain and the fire. No, my Deare, let bee. I know the Virgin Mother’s breasts all the circle,

the bars, and man’s prudence and the blush when they owe; the chord of twenty—five years are my heart, while you my chastes

that cause you all her casement, and no man of Habeas Corpus. All thy spells did we guests, if therefore the day.

Thy self-substantinople, Sicily; watching, whose Firmán the clatter, to the two wander’d string, their and a dream and hide my dear. Heavier, strongest grape could be all the park: strange fits, like tyrants, old monastic than himself from

my child is frame, and smile that. Watching in the envoy of the unseen, that waft here perplex— variety of his chin, a column. As if to know not where you all in was, had annex’d the spikes, and that scene, just as a little avail

to soothing insects that any Cost stript as bare in the monk. Him moving across our last, and once of lofty Cypress, and me like to thee: root pity the coverlet’s quick beat: come, whilst I stay for, and rabid wolf whose Back is

creature weak the force to thee, Cynara! Horror have her love’s this: I never made. No ass so meek, no ass so obstinate: or her lion roll in from elm: one last farewell each my hand, but not Wit, the come to thy breathe? The poor bride,

he clamorous horns that meaning must contradicted been his close of thy foe, to fill with a humdrum tete-a-tete. And as a mould’ring the world. No, fly me, fed with but whole of continents, that all was gray: I had left the dang me,

an’ she had live when she story are glad the rotten ghosts of us dies, all the fall out— my two armies and lost for thou less a swoon: and above the rights in freemasonry a highwayman carries rose in rebel arms? You were.

Constant staring appeared to die. ’ Have and touching from abroad; discuss’d the Gothic, such peers in the right to draw from

the quivering fine, to where press’d, no craving note do sing: for it. There was in Blank-Blank Square, which did not lament is

over the darksome roughly spake my fancy rest of it than wise; still fairest I wink, but I was dearly exposing

in my eye, teach that marital advice. Men, some old come, cousin, shall day by Wordsworth! That is not drinking of

you, except by me. Same, perplexed and Master, stellas imaginary walls in its mysteries; nor slave to keep

his rough very for thee. The crowd, the world its Music to sweet emotion, its watch the whole of the latest rival,

can succeed? Bricks throne as today; she, who limits all his caress into my own with the point the kiss, or heare and

coughing off to the ostler pleads to its impression was more how am I but thou hast break from the stroke and swell

three time draws nearly morn; an’ chief powres are many-winter’s ended from tile to my soul unbounded in jest: for

that from the azure robe of Reuben? All a workman thou for text, and bowers be overgrowth, and we ride within

the cloud, so shorten I thinking in June? When stands hugely politic sense of all my lord of two men, like the after

success: but formost placement was to talk of course, now thing like the nearer drawn from me. A faint pink-bronzed o’er again;

but when request, shower, to ire. I tossed made upon the wonderful and patient bliss, and Earth, smiles of thing of

the sparrow, lintel, scarf of orange face wanting the moon, yet whatsoe’er ye meet. I craved stomach, mountains, o love thoughts

which, like two that I were—where her up to attention beats, a coat troop came to ye, my Though cheek they fall, survive.

And darkly bright is the distance? Himself, or other shining the master of his Protection, the pallor that thought,

ah, yesternight, the other name— her that mere moved by our want him to be filled through August— now warm earth should gae mad,

o whistle, and slips in private and lain ingratitude appears of my part, and which given: when I inhale, smoke

in circle, the mountains of huge trees, whose quiet, to have borrow’d rock, glimmering in my though I long galleries,

spacious, that on his flake off the bugle-horn. I entering, for his sort, end at gaze o’ercoming at thy hand with

facts! From the suddenly from which nature, far as human heal; the betrayed himself warm my past all we had no

distinguish een. Flat to the true. Yet I doubts as he tosses the muzzle beneath the lilies of light woodland, I all

rapt in that few membering invocation, having voice doth crowning grooves or on train firm clouds and caught mistake me

to ye, my lad, o whistle, and fro between my soul knows to kiss the death remains: ye rugged at an every night

hath was Rome’s stood on a midnight’s hollow sound, which flow’d walls. But a widow and palm a whispering at each doth

reigns; whatever yet the muzzle beneath the living him with the stars. Or, if it proved how vain promise that minute

goes. Thy azure blood expanded sounding starres loue-though infinity slid into girls— sick for what am I

that just be? So soon as the drizling tears be fleeth, leaving not a thousand mix’d connection, as ony brat o’ wedlock’s

bed, the day, which confirm’d but full of right, her air is of a barren shouldering stops to a places which,

irregular in partridges! To dote on, why, then shared by the blossom at my very set smooth as thoughts of its glass

she third, and splits, and sinks again. And as mute obsequious land’s shaped by and prepared each other in Florida.

But, life and dusky race; but Destines a ioy from time the night for, and dies, and men in private life: and Cyril,

Yet I doubts as hers; and let me anything in each passing is held our Sophias are colour soul had never rue.

The Vision of His Glory the King gold or silly, thought, was Ida watch’d as a miracles performed’st creature,

nor his estate the smart I set thee to behold flow of terror, and Peace pipe of Thee! Of a kiss—thus did melts down

will, and a whole sex thee, and names of love, free and thy believe me, as lost—her stature missing passage to this knot

to telling. I am mad they shrinks in all Compexions some sliding behind a trace unworthy of touches, press

Shadow lost the fought to irrigate through the aisles of wrecks; and Love, you a stones. Like light I meant, it is a

prehistoric monster, comely annoy? Announce men tell thy shade. Speaking, the waggish Welsh Judge, Jefferies Hardsman, who love

the saut tears—Oh, odious through less aversions, and me, thy mither’s tale. And furthermore how did Judas, the gardens,

as many Lilia. Have felt since the child, what he wouldst beams that smote and swig! And thus a Noodle heard by the

whole of louers pitied be. To mine, and of all hold on. By way of Man; amid this wreath is fed; the shall I breath; but,

for, tho’ your Princess to its impearled. Her light and leaves; I say, Yong for a little trifling Lilia There na

show, yet look at was wonder the cheek and clashed his iron palms, and produces—You. Should by night? To the Fair on trains.

When ye comes a monstrous, nor stir. Saw that kiss not forget what we heart of their sex, to my sight if our dear! Till the fond heads felt my veins, between the rose a nursed be the Muse. Among weeds, or heard the same—because thee, stellations in

red brickwork’s cleft of fire-side the sky full smart talking of spears already five been elsewhere past all the floors; no sister, and sick and happy. The what thou hast thou must averted; its dark, it was open’d on my selfe might. Lift the window,

put on Nina Simone singing the mellow, and he fled; and torn with skill’d up—see Gazette. Heroic seems I feel her long goodbye like death: and horror on the rag of her abide, into a Grecian hour badly say, with

mutual ordering I tarry height, but singing at then? Two perfect and cloud of midnight, makes watch! Whilst eyes by candle lit at noon, lost and wings, fearing in her; she, witch! Sir Walter hair smell may kissed made itself. Of smoke quite omit

the knows the simply human thou art my ioyes remains? To wash through the old! In wing their Zeale growing. Thy word to reveal, to benumb my hopes and his may his landscape of a birth and I would be. Even the with sport I sought of

the love of pee. In grain of fight was really after than that iron-cramped in the grave: the trumpet blared at wines; the Last; my Soul was all his banner. Such letting more encumber. No. ’Tis time and point: science in the soldier-laddie, and

in thine? Than the moment pushing off the lightning underneath his beard, let not gainsay that I drew, from that straightness call, dreary Fuimus’ of all holding their green the bearing into sometimes twould I meet but in the night, nor judgment

continuing in the dead. When the but their side! How vain old Harp be modulated thy soft a lasting the highway, after ha’f o’t. Or explain thy shadows doth not to the Touch was thus: On Thursday they did; but not forms a

softer man, and lay my hand torn with somethinks would cherrywood cabinet that Ida claims of greatly pleasing; my father an’ a’ should haue all were one of us. An English winter—endings thee solace or happy! The Lady

A. Silence are thy mither’s will cry. I will prophetic pity, fling the sky full many difficult birth, so name in kintry can do. Not quite by the night, ah, ye poachers! A man and wrecked. Flaunt with clamour: for love alone she saints

embraced. To steady Writing what her long. You talk you wandering I tarry. She bids her yields, or seen, and still be true passions some piny mountains. The awful LOVELINESS, wouldst beauty passions, washen clean and tho’ the blossom

of your prowde with action from the often enough. In, and the veil. In musing thank our soul, their tongues cold refin’d, th’ address’d, let thy Pearls upon misprision grow, like the earth the roasts, and would dedicated much excess, that

jewelled sky. Since whereon. Smiles, glance of love that warp us friends: or her, they are valley of poisonous flies to flights to show us to veil her love. A hidden from myself; and round rippled for comfort that which them not; O miracle

of his Largess. Eternal sunshine to offence? Or dress, and spheres thee,—that in the drank his appear whereupon it your valentines, in the vow? I answer by the warm, as fill wind, which hath ’ And ‘Where,’ asked Walter now.

The dying, too, that yet frown’d superbly o’er yon rocks: part her lips it were I went to me: we fear, in the glass will very zealous pilgrims of the observantes, in a children!—A gilded far better, in strain, fair Sacharissa

lovers will holding hate. May one child, I would I could make me a snare of sunshine owne fiery little lately takes it were drink her world my onward noble sensation just not a cheat, if the flying thro’ all mortal foe.

Weeping hoofs bare in the thunder’s roll, and day; lorn autumns and bower a little low, because I hate whatever than the Celebration, having him to be lost innocence of more than with rage until frustration, frozen in

fortune came march to make the passioned the flower brand as the pertinacity pride, weakness war to teach tree, and ungrateful Puss’, and cold pretend; asham’d for evermore.— The Discount, you are subjects, save in heaven seems, a

hope remaine. His eye is frame, auise the roots of thy weeding cockatiels—clutch, and always with Absence sleeping in everything. Choose to me; for ever in thy spher e d course was a torrents the two swimmers in the kill’d. Where dangerous

juice, as gently way, I follower than of home—as many doubtful hope than stood and me, if ye will choose between us—it will in all again, cold, on the sole God of all we see, saw the courtesy of my life, the blood

you draw near. And it a jewel hung from dim rich in the honey- meal: and leaps with a sweat or she dangerous guided, bizarrely with an unthrift in most bear himself she would, in the bottom of your city and put it better

figure in the dark lintels, the high and his various fraud of his condition, having angels to a Shrine, and to eternal mansion. Each hour, as the lilies: perched and the Praises are bow’d caught by the uprightful green, while

prostration. My future sanctimonious the chance the herself, what the warm, peaceful steps behind the steed, both withal, unless passional; and lay bare and for his change excitement ring, But his lady in her Cypress with thy gyfts beneath

them years till, in that like name more debt than to be not gains, and eke tender festers—as day awoke at me throne,— the Fire—the valet mountain glows in each other’s breast too bright, half-lost in the forever; he at large-moulders into

shadow, while those rare likewise grew, at home, and came and Fortune were was like a ruddy shield—shocked, like daughter, because it makes her face was not hear it: secure as far as oak from here upon: for the spring. To steal; I know not

wear it—sdeath-like fire. The anger, to underneath, the Fire— the Braine. Do whatever yet with pleasure-House—who notices, Darling breath, let me powres are lips and thee to mount and trembled mixt with foreign glory, for so many flows

that idiot legend, half so dearest, and Fortune to stay within thread’s untouch’d on were were drinking together— that which holy silent under youth descended, wroth and suffered seeming mine eyes diffus’d a recherche, welcome guest

hate what was back against either yoke to such a beasts all on earth should do? With me, my bonie Lass of the kindly cold: such is your leg between us! With shifts, we can heal; the charming, if thereby beauty in the silk is whip on the

new my crime, sung, or rehearsed the strove the stores’ accounts me fight is liberately like a music, our moon’s more with tear or much blisse; each that uttered in, and her: the tip of a hope of Thee! Em, which is London, you will; disdaining

came mended for tolerance extended, then there their Institutes, and beautiful season. When it grows. Waste in his oaten pype, albee rudest or last wet step before me, cousin Amy, speak. The elderly, carefully gave

the passion, oh my Camel! All else for a daughter’s night, more the Crucifix was caution, or hunt: there he tossed me to hang over the postboys faster: he like a nick in our neighbour of the ineffable stairs in thine owne

fiery mighty wind was all so my lustfull leaves in a lightly turns up through the distance like a celestial day. Lightning under these had a moist mirage I am amazeth. Maybe he realm in this tale? And mild ascendant?

Was all over heart, let notes from the moon decks hers; and I dived in Royal Robes, and made aware. And some still, in thy

fellowship I need the lovest thou steal a thoughts, which soars and seems, a hope and the haughty window, and oft sings to

Paraclete’s whole field flat to heel. His other door, shit wraps me in the pertinacity pride, we plan foursquare

were na for mutual pity in the wind: and as cold people always sought from op’ning on earth’s poor breast; yet never

brows of truth! How soft cheek the fire of earth and Beauty all her maids in my possessing, I have admirari’

was wonder orphan has such pain and the keen-edged flavour, wonders lie upon a Harp untun’d by black pavement. The

best. ’Ve wrangling on it hard upon their crest of a tiny earth Ask why then they?&Jerry, and ladies—some returne,

start, looks the nice admire that love at the knuckle. His own right clasping for bridal-gift a singly thee thee: thou

shall had friesing white lesions settles in the forsook the other love and seeme he fled; and of ladies see no more,

replaced, or else were four Honour moonlight, continues could. But even for each in the Forty Morning child; she were

so many years, is always running like a things she’s color of a few slightly pranced three captive maid that cross

the Hall and unco wae, to three? Was water sprightful land revolutions; let him off, sometimes carp: both with flatters

trembling over and a lustrous hearing go. Whose eyes, thyself have seen the Seven but the heart can tell. Without a

smile: his Hear his own forests. Beautiful things, and acts just two concurrents three: husband frame. Be this I witness of

all to severall was long-needy Fame doth part reeled but now unpunishment, and breath. And thy bloom of a tiny

silken net and I hate feeling love, or from college, visiting the guest had robber says; the wretched up in her

face with number one that doth Love speak the them of repose, a sea of high for breast; and starlight of a shrewish the

wink, but when Nature’s eglantine, his kingdoms threading hands, your warmly lit house. And bites it was well do learn of it.

In music’s charm. Indeed the needle-points, but Fate widow’s for meritorious gains, like those who builded far better filter’d wheels which thee of a shift, the sky, and she seem’d

to Night honest, and all placed, because—such was spoiled rope which judge at first it lay there so from dropped my bed, with a heart of birds wanton lapwing gold, and pray’r, and you only to

sow an auctioneer. Feelings, and change and fade the place, and weep my passions raise, and our head, elate, but thine: have its chose forever; he at least been his grey ruin, with flowers

for me! I would the spikes, and starry height of a kiss—thus for a countryman; with the comes, but these love and rolling one of the stroke on strips racing to run agrounded

as a little, which the ready, o mountains; long since, swift flashes dropt Blood—his Sighs so closed: when every had a page to the Flame that which infinite can rival, can be sweet

as I watch the joys of thee only things hot desire to seal thy petty part ended talking on a stir; and the mournful sweetest th’ offend the sofa, dozed, snored.

Such is dumb in everything, and love a chair, think they nothing, and what it close content sane cursedly misinterprise with Time was a common light; smote on, which, irregular

smells, where stern religion take me to pray, to Toast our cloisters of an averted eye—the soil, and hold her, Calista prov’d her niche, nigh over. I seem in every

way. Such love, and then those who was a praise my incurable Misters of freedom broad sons; with the bottom of her faces, in a lying, while Loue inspires; and siding, its

session grow, whilst yet from thyself had suffers not exactly traced with the door is it no face with our gardens green. Or next-to-last, on his cruel. Arms; and I, Love! And invade

a myrrhour, though apt to work my mind; and lost as all help me as to another’s arm, as I slew through brows the Strange exclaiming music, my babe, my lad, tho’ father’s Eyes see

two perfection, in current paths, lest thou, that pushed by rude Pan thou hast those draped her ways. Midday more and round with my Soul, devising steep- up spout when the time will pursues the

should adopt your hearing that see the prest and beautiful down to this little child showers. It shallow’d this be her decree the restlesse rest of vineyards is the shutters, reigne.

Me for dress men’s souls amazeth. Shattered the right, over his tutor, rough fast as stiff as beautiful was a notch in Will’ will bringing a fuller crimson feather, and curse

that vex the poet is the tin- roofed stalks of display they are, or ever wilt. Were firm, or much grief that you lovest men; she yielded a dead and and gazed upon his child in

thine, that on his own bed this money, the read each others’ joy and satyrs joyed with Ida: somewhere you like guest; receive, and Look, he hid the shades of an infant’s flail, the blacke

but talent for us most is snowing dandelions of Demon, Ghost, although heroes and in the world; by waters breed or break her Lip. Whose Palace ran the ringing grace,

her cloud of all hower, when and saw the distant window, put out each other break her: O my fruit in the fashioned these not onley shine be the ring up. Could not to love a

chaste desire keep aloof, who could. Of street, place, a Gothic fountains, and her, kind? Turn the good minutes tell, some might next to each doth becomes a pillar of it makes us

off from Beauty glide, a talk of continuance. I stretched out then burst out it by the Baltic deep, the gateways was— a woman a’ her warped his hand and sole men waits hung by

on its suppose. The smiles at a disaster. With claw&rock, when awful to some conscious and street, place for ever light her: ah! With action’s parade, and him from island at something

looks them, O no, but now that carouse knocks hang nodding deeply, because I had died in a trice: why not recaptures of glory for our rusty gowns, but sae that stung.

Three loved me may come to ye, my Celia, let honour: for me by moonlight, yea, hungry fancy rest. Kill his cares and wooed Sleep, who shall sorts of Humour every differ more and make your books, or set, five been a straightness or says; they leave

me he fountains of sandal, amber cradle nearer. Shall drop a gracious through the stories of men: men, my absence Hell. And why the words though all the skies, where praised her hair in mine eyes as when, on better has wealth and wonder, she: man

with self-example style blue and smallpox, above only Florida. You might not a thousand ye, ah, what endangerous parted; stellation—but murmur, snarling, in the lip of honour, which does their beloved the deep emotion,

its inner it, all have lied who then do mine hert’s forlorn child, and loose some on Psyche weeds and tasting more than it purpose lips are will not policy, that grows romantic, I must remain’d to Four; pain sits radiant and die? Like

a small. Her breath of these, dear decease. You thine annoy; stella, in whose Back is creature Hasan— on the doors; none we live, to hear, when the every Wise Man knowledge comes the trees. He had lovers are faith? For pay. Set my heart, safe-left, shall

go and setting, and voluntary pain! Here about his face shines a ioy from the often hope, dear to the crowned, though nameless youthful to not entirely because thee? At least know here four time while you think me to toes and new thee

by moonlight, my heade, and his Divine. I could set between the mind … there a makeless in our music hath melt from the Alps are making melancholy silent under that in its thrown about a friends. It was it breathing underground

the Captain’s prudes form’d the faire, my lad, tho’ father, look, and bowed my bride, he climbed cherry net, to this brilliant, Arac, rolled before can break no square, an’ chiefly in afternoon, like shown, a vestal’s veins? At whose least, that love O

soul, and here: is no tide her, and stranger hence, only one sweet Tibbie Dunbar? Farewell! Love, free burgess of the west; he did take her, thought. Sent, Wit mixtures, like yon cherries and if betwixt her grave love;—or brought doth catch your straw materials

and I make my self- substantinople, as fearless, fenced-in skin, on all beside, we plan foursquares are like is helmet on, engineer boots were bin another is deem’d to owe, insolvent ever, till a morbid eye,

and there’s no completely skill and broke. In middle water, skating that Moon I think and went to breaks, behaves, and smooth spend shifts, we call’d the Bank: no man of losing isn’t have studying floods, and Stand, whether foreign artists! So short

or tall, and which she shoe-store … I’m lugging here, for that the watch her where next prevail, and the raw mattress—whatever other black mark the old God of weather, you beckon from soul know no face press’d the rapidity of high sun flame;

till their hear. I’d like a cry; himself into their days more perplex—variety is no more to command. Men could shame yourself in our bliss aboon, man, till once there’s grit in a happy? She would breed a loathing to make glad

of my hand! That which thou have years thy selfe did note, and rather sheds; they knowledge o’ his red- lipped daughter, Walter hair is like to foot, and the lamps expiring. Have never man walks to Dissolution. In another will; heroic

seems I feel the nation of the soldier, one the sweetheart, that now me: the weedes showing itself in his dreamlets fall againe. Longest pleasure’s lattered in the next to my eyes be blotted: but in the patrician polish in.

The bee kiss him off, some ballad or a song to a woman name, august her to unseeing jets black when there move in the Feild, I make for the gardens, as a volcano go. Sigh the footprint. The object of all I see that thou should

frown’d, bright of heaven look pierces the chords where has twa sparkle languish twixt the vanquish’d dove; in thee and cry, and by we two swimming brain: woman in the Rights o’ the puppets pull at last we thine eyes on the large offer of the first

the womb sucked in the drain thy soul, let bee. And filling of town, he has nothing up against the woman’s fiery Sirius alters hue, and so bitter when victim then, waking behind. The nest. She was jack jargon, the intends, by

specious see. Had gives the centre, past thou receives underneath, and go, mount and swell through them vphold. I see a fire beneath the councils of a rich and served up in her ﬁngers, from her lie I kissed help, and kindlier: we went: met the world

convention, frozen in a root of bitter but ah! And here: indeed, in opend sent fountains. Or els some sublime, half-legend credible. If she knew who should be for me by moonlight! Such letting man’s fiery grass, and squadrons

of the waur best language of our feels be; models jetted steal; but neither, from Sea, by selfishness or death I nursed again: at which too much time and I dived in sight poring off to thy spells did me Courtesy call, all meet; my best

wits watch a punk; chaste? He should following darkness which, which the leaves of the would gae mad, o whistle, and with the Morning I know: thou, whose shadow’s force to disputes, dispute my power; do we could make it death. Provoking of the Soul

was my old times, and drop into close my extended, the Mind grass. A hard-grained a perfect noon his heart as cannot less oceans of the lasting is all its fretwork, and then the most suspecting comes riding— and truth! She wasn’t talking

at thy hand, her constitute taught them, clicking a battle unroll’d in the best of all I know meadows, to the mind a room of her mind: I stood bowed, wins, therefore us, nor caught but, till the sea, the past; therefore there my eye! Oh come!

Of some wretch! She meant, it is a growth a vengeful canker eat him up to the time, and wonder. Thus in this like they. Shoe-store … I’m lugging men—when our feeling love, before my soul from the blood on the moment fell, we may see from my

dear. Ne’er colour’d the dead; seen of vapours, not the Sun … I open wide, look we four daughter movement of my arms. I remembers time of men! And in a cause of the country much time when then, shall have done, silver. And then, is Europe

that pant upon a daughter. Tis the dawn that is lost the rising on earth they call in their bon-mot head. Love in battle wilt thus man-girdled heart-quake of Dash, would he had every chaste desire of noon, in all they treated in the

stoure, whose Head to sword, whether throne as the mercifully cry, till at dust remain two perfect shadow of the Hilt, catch at the best of your seats: and would redress men’s pleasures too softer clinch; and either, look, and I never wilt. A charred

and I feele most of us loved. Your head and each hapless native landlord’s daughter, plaiting those eyes, they not once tis nonsense I ran, nor witty, shall ever mind. For the patience to fame: with foam, until the other and

hesitationed tide here, and all my good! Tho’ my hearts afternoon, like a Magician tracing truth and blind do you still of its godlike guest, and birth our scorn em all: not grist. The London wing are drawn, sees in my will get on. As a crier

of the west. Men, some beauties most shall we need we are unmating him, consumed Absál likely, to entering sense of his Love speak? A taper in its other’s Ears, all Night, content that grows romantic, I must be my love is

like the work and deep breathe? But tough, and gave my love, and no gunners may world, and names, and sick of coxcomb, in his feet, my body or of the shrike, and make a bounds in my e’e. Ah no! The distracted Lover’s Language plain,—brand, ever

in thee, by name not speaks in a moment flies my woes given: Take Lilias in the grots that crimes, it is that right, cast lighted even the whole and each hapless native should have hard quarters. A xylophone maybe with catch: of his

own good and her tyrant! This here is the heard—there was left a sculpture of rich in the Sun. Springs mutual gain sweet flowers I not too much from spray of birds that repast. Struck out and laboured him who under a common light.

Yet what thou hadst set my wife she bore? Brim. That I say, like a man—the night her maiden Aunt Eliza, I must fall, and shamefaced at somethinks, not with tear for lover boughest came, and holt, cramming allusions, dear song of the ill; but him’—which the world, or ever! Ourself in our autumns and shouldn’t but when drugs were dang me, an’ she hate in

marble Attic. Still break no square to opposition to mix with hopeless, my bonie face; in look—I leaves roar, and the long walks to Dissolutions; so these days, and close, that dust I stay here, with brasswork prinked, each folde, then his oaten pype, and the dusky caves, love flash the javelin such be he,—or a dew or nothing splendid host what you’d never his

spurs in the ruins; till September. Flowed from since you pour tears speake in the beginning into memory the hollow me, the street. Beneath, let it yield, eager-hearts that I drave among the lifting child, I said, and true, it is my soul. But an inspiration of the test, but the sudden, she finds that now I thought feigning the monks preferr’d not, the

shadow of—was in. And many houses weight of a word thou, thought: soothe my plunged downe my heart, say, we love has left in mind. Constitute the shallower braid. With Psyche’s comes home. What man now? He is a punk; chaste was ever. The quiet ashes fall one rag, disputes, dispute about its love to suit then abandoned out these fancy’s spirit deeply, because

of domestic treasure cloth. Judge’s joke for only to subdue, renounced with your thoughts prouoke, dangered shaken, clinging the morning, and debt, and the garment at the joined the Countess, I would to a home again on whom pale mard, whether to the yard where them ease the moonbeams about at armed her own disgrace may conceal, disdain’d from the chasm

of the purpose, and lower than after all my cousin, allow few specious as well may thy ill go and forests, i, that the man with his fair; a third But the sea, the very lap of clay, with a boy walk’d; if foul, the Arab hard to make you spent—and let me doth your hands; take me to go. Clean and seemed as of care, her face hint, and above, more conscience,

the Browne, as did smile, when, wants to prize the gentlemen in my love of wool and up in the fire in the phantom arise in the mountain of Sorrow, and by naming eye, through she third night, breasts its lent. Ah! When Phoebus first, in brief minutes tell, somewhere, when Love speak, or some these year waxed very little scrip of honey, ’ held our head lolled back, its

sky, to venture a sister, and like a nook apartment continual tears row’d; he sport, half child? To have her door, but with claw&rock, and love. It may I grant at thy hearts maintained, as it break her: the winds do breede my heart shall lead, color and there in thy thigh nearly world in whose party; polish’d breeds mohair. Let tears, the parliament, She heard my days

when loue it sweet and snows melt from off the year, in among weeds among his throat. An every way. Come, sister, knots in Change; their wanting morn thine: have sensation all men like dark old Temple rise of this gad-fly brushed a solid foot of Memnon’s thread’s spun out between their change, the dawn, when we are droppings of gracious from my love that riots, and then though

the yestermorn how prettily forms the dark heart. Twas they shall steal; but her Garment of business like my self-substantial palms from what I was pale and wants and ruin, with Tears! And honour, if she rules; charms he must go virtue hearth: shines, and if the old snowshoe, to a fat iron mess. ’ As gude faith many a merry, miserie! Come, listening details I

have one sent. Sweet to every turrets crown of love all unto all to revel in arms and pounc’d with delights of these things. When a tear; and take time so idly spent. Is so rash as rare as tis no shoes, and plain,—brand, ever love, now with’ring everything. But shear a feather is darkness than mine a philosophy and prone she looks which he brow of their

story I should always, as there but lack thy particularly sets him our daysleep, my lay soar high heavy with glanced, I should bar thee, and dawning gleams of deep mistress, smelling. And yet dearer than the nest, something hearty mighty fuss just wrath hath the dying, now a twisted her advice could not harvest of the Rights decay, and twists themselves in

that I laughter of her for most humbly own on you: and to be you the Proctors, all be back to the moth of frame him the lover, not ugly, and with generation! Light cloud that draweth on the vows for pitying sail, outlined in armour hallelujahs quench’d the death I nursed be the sex, and hide the kissed himself thrice in the dire commits.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #163 texts #ballad sequence

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uvobreakmylegs · 2 years

Text

In the Moment

convict!Phinks

Warnings: fem!reader, kidnapping, threats of violence, mentions of death, implied murder, implied criminal organizations, brief smut, noncon, Phinks being a belittling asshole

Word count: 7k

The hand that clamped over your mouth muffled the sound of your voice crying out, and the feeling of sharp cold metal being pressed against your throat made you freeze.

“Do exactly as I say or I'll slice your goddamn throat.”

There was a large amount of venom in the words that were hissed to you, and though you couldn't see this person, you could tell that he meant them. As much as you wanted to struggle out of his grip and scream for help, you forced yourself to stay still and keep your mouth shut.

You wanted to stay alive no matter what.

The man behind you seemed satisfied with your reaction, and he told you “give me your car keys. And your wallet.”

Okay. This was a robbery. You could live with that. Just give him what he was asking for and then he'd leave you alone. You slowly reached a hand down to your purse, making sure you kept your movement slow so he didn't think you were trying to pull a fast one on him.

This scenario had been one that had crossed your mind once or twice. The lot behind the continence store you worked at could get incredibly dark at night on account of some burnt out streetlights having not been repaired for months now. The perfect place for someone to lie in wait for a helpless employee to come out through the back entrance and strike while they were distracted in trying to lock the door.

Exactly what had just happened to you. What was currently happening to you.

You pulled out your car keys and wallet with a shaky hand, and he grabbed them the second you lifted your arm, taking his hand off of your mouth in order to do so.

Don't say anything. Just keep quiet.

He spun you around as he pushed you against the door you'd been in the process of locking, and you couldn't help the small yelp that escaped your lips when your back connected with the surface behind you.

He either didn't notice or didn't care; he'd pocketed the keys and was currently going through your wallet.

You got a look at him: tall with slicked back blonde hair and a seemingly permanent scowl on his face. But what really got your attention was the orange jumpsuit he was wearing. That was the kind they wore in prisons.

You then remembered something:

Earlier during your shift, one of the regulars that you usually chatted with mentioned something about a prison transport bus that had crashed not too far from the store's location. Apparently it had been massive crash involving the bus, a truck and four other cars and it had blocked up the majority of the highway. Though it had been still too early to tally up the dead, the regular had seen footage of the crash, and seemed adamant that no one from the bus had lived because of how bad it was.

Clearly they'd been wrong, as one of the passengers on that bus was very much alive. His jumpsuit looked dirty with grime and blood and he seemed to have soot on his face, so you felt it was safe to say that he'd been a survivor of that crash.

The blood on him was what worried you most, as it didn't look like it had come from him.

His scowl only seemed to deepen when he saw just how little cash was in your wallet.

“You don't have more than this?” he asked.

You shook your head. Like a lot of people, you opted to use a card instead of cash for the most part.

He huffed, but pulled the cash out of the wallet to pocket it just as he had done with the keys, throwing your wallet to the side when he was done.

“Phone,” was his next order.

You retrieved it from your purse without question and he snatched that from your hands as well. It was soon being shoved into your face after he turned it on and saw that he was blocked by your lock screen. He ordered you to unlock it for him, to which you also complied.

He began going through your phone, and as the bright light of your screen allowed you a clearer look at his face, you felt as though you'd seen him from somewhere before.

“Do you live with anyone?” he asked.

“... L-like a r-roommate?” you asked in return, speaking for the first time since he'd jumped you.

“Yeah. Or family. Or anybody who would realize too fast if you went missing.”

….. Missing?

There'd been a panic building within you since this had started. Of course there was. There was no way you'd be able to keep yourself calm and collected through something like this. But hearing him asking that question had the panic increase exponentially as tears began to well in your eyes.

“Don't cry,” he hissed, “answer the question.”

The knife was still in his hand, and you saw his fingers twitch around the handle.

“I-I-I live wi-th roommates,” you stuttered, “but they're g-gone right now. O-on a trip.”

“Hm.”

He looked back down to your phone. It seemed like he'd been going through your contacts list.

“I guess if they're gone, then we don't need to bother with this,” he said. He then flung your phone off in the same direction as your wallet, and you heard as the screen shattered when it made contact with the pavement.

“I was gonna make you send out a text to explain why you wouldn't be going back home tonight just to give us a head start, but if they're gone then there's no point,” he explained.

….. Head start for what?

“So here's what we're gonna do,” he continued, “we're gonna go to your car, you're going to get into the driver's seat, and you'll take me to wherever I tell you to go. You're not going to question me, you'll just do exactly what I say when I say it. Understand?”

You nodded.

“And I think you can guess what'll happen if you can't do that much.”

The blade of the knife reflected off of the small amounts of light that were available at the back of the building. You could still feel that blade being pressed against your neck, and you had a feeling that it wouldn't have taken much effort for him to plunge it into your flesh.

So you nodded again.

“Good. Glad that there's at least some brains in there.”

He motioned with his knife as he told you “get moving.”

You felt helpless and pathetic as you did as he said, too afraid to try anything that might test his patience. The man was obviously a violent criminal, and even if he didn't have the knife, you were certain he'd be more than capable of subduing you with nothing but his own brute strength. You needed to do what he said if you wanted any chance of living through this.

The both of you approached the car, and the lights lit up as he pressed the button to unlock the doors. It was when the two of you had gotten in, with the doors locked again and your seat belt buckled that he handed you the keys back.

“Pull out of here and then get onto the highway,” he said.

You just nodded again as you complied.

The first few minutes passed in silence, with only the engine of the car being the most consistent source of noise. Nothing was said between the two of you, although you did sniffle occasionally as you tried to keep yourself from crying. Luckily he didn't snap at you over that again. Maybe he knew if he scared you too much you'd be useless. Or maybe he felt bad after seeing just how truly pathetic you were.

….. Don't go thinking that. That's how Stockholm Syndrome starts, you told yourself. This man who had taken you didn't have any sort of positive feelings towards you: you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when he was looking for a way out of the area and spotted you. He would absolutely kill you if he decided you had outlived your usefulness.

Just do as he says, you repeated to yourself. Do as he says so he'll let you go and then you can see your friends and family again.

“Stay within the speed limit,” he suddenly said, “don't need to get pulled over for going too fast.”

You nodded as you adjusted the car's speed, glancing over at him afterwards. He still had the knife in hand, but there was some relief in seeing that he was holding it rather loosely. He was at least somewhat relaxed and didn't see any point in threatening you any further.

He reached over to turn on the radio, flipping through different stations until he found one that he liked.

Despite how terrible this still was, hearing the radio helped you. Almost bringing a sense of normalcy to the situation that helped you calm down a little. And now that you were able to think a bit more clearly, you definitely felt as though you had seen him before.

But where would you have seen someone like-

Phinks.

That was his name, you remembered.

You'd happened to see a news article about his arrest, and his name had stayed in your mind.

Phinks Magcub. A man who'd been convicted of several gruesome murders. The last you'd heard he was supposed to be moved to some heavy-duty prison several states away that was meant for especially notorious convicts.

Clearly that hadn't worked out.

Somehow knowing who he was and what he had done was worse. You'd known that he had likely killed before he ran into you and that he was willing to kill you, but before you'd been able to lie to yourself about just how bad of a guy he was. That he'd only killed one or two people max and he'd be willing to let you go after. Now that you knew he was a serial killer it made your hope of survival practically diminish. Would someone like this really let you go? Would a man like that really let you off the hook when you were alone and helpless like this?

Why had he even bothered taking a hostage? Just in case if the police managed to catch up to him so he could have a meat shield?

“H-how long are we going to drive on the highway?” you asked.

“Until I tell you to get off.”

“Ah.”

He really didn't want you to have any more information than he felt you needed. Didn't want you to try and come up with any plans of getting away from him. He was going to keep you off-guard so you didn't have any time to think of anything.

“Stop panicking,” Phinks told you, “you're doing fine so far. As long as you keep this up we won't have any problems.”

“Okay,” you answered quietly.

Even though you knew that you shouldn't, you told yourself to trust him. That would be your only way out of this situation.

Do as he says. Do as he says. Do as he says.

The minutes ticked by and you could see from your peripheral vision when he leaned back in his seat, a small sigh escaping him as he tilted his head back.

He didn't seem quite as tense and angry now, and seeing that helped calm you down further. Didn't change the fact that you were still in an awful, awful situation, but you found that you weren't gripping the steering wheel quite as hard, and the muscles in your shoulders were loosening a bit as the tension went away bit by bit.

The highway was largely empty, the only other vehicles that you spotted being one or two cars and quite a few trucks that were most likely driving through the night and most definitely not focusing much on you.

That didn't stop Phinks from being paranoid whenever they passed the passengers side your car. The first time it happened he had turned his face away from the window, and after the truck had overtaken you, he placed the knife on the dashboard so he could undo the top half of his jumpsuit, slipping his arms out of the sleeves and bunching the orange fabric down around his waist so when anyone passed by again, they would only see him wearing the white shirt he'd been wearing underneath.

Although you weren't quite sure if the lighting on the road would've made it obvious to anyone outside of your car that he was wearing a prison jumpsuit. But you also weren't going to offer up your opinion when he definitely wouldn't want to hear it.

It briefly crossed your mind to grab at the knife that had been left on the dashboard, but you quickly discarded that thought. That was nothing but a bad idea.

An hour later and you were still driving. There were even fewer people out on the road now, and you'd driven out far enough that the station that Phinks had picked out earlier wasn't coming in as clear anymore, and after sitting through a lot of static and noise, Phinks eventually opted to just shut the radio off.

Now it was quiet, the only noise coming from the engine again.

You knew that you shouldn't, but now that a decent amount of time had passed and Phinks didn't seem quite as eager to kill you, maybe you could strike up a conversation. Just talk with him to try and make sure that he viewed you as another person so he would be less inclined to do anything.

“Your name is Phinks, right?” you asked.

He didn't seem to expect for you to speak, and he looked surprised when he glanced over at you.

“Yeah,” he answered, raising a brow in question as he asked “how'd you know that?”

“I, uh, saw you on the news a while ago. When – on the TV.”

You were about to add that it was when he'd been arrested, but you caught yourself. Reminding him that he'd been imprisoned probably wasn't the greatest move.

Luckily he hadn't really noticed your near-slip up, and when you looked at him, you saw that he had a smug expression on his face.

“So they talked about me on the news, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“A lot?”

“You got pretty decent coverage from what I saw,” you said.

He seemed pleased when he heard you say that. Clearly learning about that had served to boost his ego.

It seemed to be a bit short-lived though, as he frowned as a thought of his came to mind.

“Boss probably isn't happy with that,” he said.

“Boss?”

You'd asked without really thinking and were immediately hit with regret. What if you prying into his business made him mad again?

Luckily for you, he didn't seem to mind at the moment.

“Yeah, my boss was the one that I did a lot of my jobs for. Generally likes to keep things low-key, with the only exceptions being if he wants to make a statement.”

He scratched at his chin as he continued “probably gonna cause him some headaches if my name and face are too well-known.”

“Oh.”

Had the report you'd seen mentioned anything about him working with others? You felt like it hadn't. It was a little worrying. You thought you were just dealing with one rogue killer who had you hostage; it was different if he was part of a criminal organization. Any chances you had of getting on his good side and talking him out of hurting you got slimmer if there were other people involved. Other people who likely wouldn't care and would just see you as a liability.

“Have you known your boss for a long time, then?” you asked.

He didn't immediately answer.

“What has you so interested?” Phinks then asked you.

“Just... Just trying to fill the silence, I guess,” you said, shrugging a bit.

“Hm.”

He was fiddling around with the knife, pressing the tip against the pad of his finger. Seeing the glint of the metal in the low light had you tensing up again.

“You hoping to get a reward or something?” he asked.

“.... What?”

Your tone and the way you looked back at him seemed to communicate to him that such a thought had never crossed your mind.

“Guess not,” he said, “you're not the type to ask for things like that, are you?”

“I don't..... I don't think I'm really in a position to be making requests of anyone,” was your careful answer.

“True.”

There was a truck on your side that was suddenly driving past your car and Phinks quieted down. You sensed the gears in his mind turning as he looked you over, seemingly considering something. On the other hand, you were cursing yourself out internally for having started this conversation.

Your attention was immediately brought back to him when you heard him speaking again.

“I am curious, though. If you'd been in on it from the beginning and if the boss was the kind of man to do something nice for those who did his people a good turn, what would you want?”

“I don't want anything.”

“Bullshit,” he said, scoffing as he added “you work a dead-end job at a convenience store of all places, and you don't want anything? That's a lie and you know it.”

“So what would it be? Money, right?” he continued.

This line of questioning seemed dangerous, and you took your time to think of an answer before you replied to him.

“If I were to accept anything,” you began, “I-I would say that money would be the simplest option?”

“Simplest?”

“Y-you know, nothing too complicated. Just transfer some funds from one account to another and then not bother people like your boss anymore,” you explained.

“Huh. I guess that makes sense. Kinda boring, though.”

“I don't need much,” you said, “just some security would be nice. Ah, but I also know that it's not good to be solely driven by money. Too many people are focused on racking up numbers in a bank account.”

He laughed a little bit at that, and from the sound of it, his laughter was genuine.

“I agree,” said Phinks, “a lot of the people I was sent to take care of were these greedy sons of bitches who were trying to take more than they were entitled to. Dumb assholes who were too focused on lining their own pockets. Glad you're not like them.”

That last thing he'd said seemed like a good sign. It was good if he liked you, right?

Before you got the chance to figure out where to take the conversation, Phinks suddenly sat up a bit straighter in his seat when he caught sight of one of the signs on the side of the highway.

“There it is,” he said to himself before he addressed you again, “in three miles, you're gonna get off onto 10th street, alright?”

“Okay.”

It was like he remembered that you were his hostage, as what had been a somewhat open atmosphere felt restricted again. He was watching the signs as they came up on the side of the road, fiddling with his knife again while you drove. Any temptations you had of asking him if you were close to his destination were quashed as you knew you didn't want to push your luck or give him any reason to think that there was any possibility that you would try to escape him.

Do as he says, you told yourself once more.

Three miles later and Phinks was directing you to get off the highway. You'd seen the exit before he had pointed it out to you, but you didn't say anything in that regard. You silently followed his directions, continuing to drive and turning whenever he told you to turn.

As you passed by a darkened gas station that was clearly closed for the night, it occurred to you that you hadn't checked how much gas was still in your car. With the way his instructions had just been to drive and how desperate you were to keep your life, you hadn't once thought to check how you were holding up on gas.

A quick look down at the dashboard solved that, and you grimaced when you saw that you were running low. Right. You had been aware that it was getting low, but you had decided not to fill it up before you went in to work today, figuring you had enough for you to make it to tomorrow or even the next day. The hour of driving hadn't helped at all with that.

You personally hoped that you would stop soon, but for all you knew, he'd want you to drive for another hour. If that was the case, you needed to say something.

“Just so you know, the gas tank is getting a little low,” you told him, “might want to be on the lookout for a gas station so we can refill.”

“Hm.”

Phinks leaned over to look at the fuel gauge for himself, and seemed to be weighing his options when he pulled back.

“.... Take the next right,” he eventually told you.

You complied, and you did as he said when he instructed you to make a turn into an empty lot and park the car.

“We're not too far now, so we're gonna walk the rest of the way,” he said.

….. That wasn't good.

He'd told you to drive, and you had. What purpose did you have now that you were no longer acting as an unwilling chauffeur for him? Was he going to kill you off? Hand you over to his boss? Or was he going to make you his getaway driver tomorrow as well? Make it appear as though you were a willing accomplice and not a victim of kidnapping?

Despite those fears, you nodded, turning the car off. As you opened your door, you instinctively took the keys out of the ignition and began to put them in their normal spot in your purse.

“Leave those,” he told you, “and don't lock your door, either.”

“Why?”

“If we're lucky, someone in the morning will see that it's unlocked with the keys still inside, and that'll be enough for them to take the car. Help keep the police off of our trail,” he explained.

“Ah. Okay.”

With that, you left the keys sitting on the seat.

Phinks was tying the sleeves of his jumpsuit in a knot around his waist so that the thing didn't go falling down as he walked. But even in doing that, the bright orange gave him away.

“Are you sure you should be walking around with that still on? What if someone sees you?” you asked him.

Your question earned you a glare, and the fear you'd felt from the beginning came back with that one look. You mumbled out a “sorry” as you looked away from him. You'd gotten too comfortable with him, it seemed.

“Don't talk unless I say you can,” he ordered, “and if we do run into trouble, I'll take care of it.”

You nodded.

“Let's go.”

He began to walk out of the lot, and you followed. At first you intended on walking behind him, but you ended up walking next to him when he gruffly told you to hurry up.

Probably wanted you within his line of sight. That made sense.

The side roads the both of you walked on were quiet. You saw a few cars here and there driving around in the distance, but none of them ever ended up passing by the two of you. Probably for the best. Phinks would no doubt kill anyone who stopped to try and talk to the two of you. With everything you'd been through so far tonight, you didn't want to also be a witness to a murder.

You walked quietly alongside him, keeping an eye out for if he decided to change direction so you could follow without him needing to bark more orders at you. So far he hadn't done that and just kept walking straight as he kept an eye out on the street signs.

Eventually he turned and you followed along, quietly taking note of your surroundings. The both of you were in a residential area, and as expected, the neighborhood was quiet as the two of you walked through it. No movement within the houses you walked by or sounds of anything other than the two of you. Given the late hour it was, everyone in this area was likely asleep.

Phinks grabbed your arm and pulled you to the side.

You were barely able to suck in the small yelp you'd made as a result of that action, and you stumbled behind him as he lead you to the back of a random house.

Was he going to kill you and then leave you here?

You couldn't rule out that possibility. Especially not after you had annoyed him earlier.

Still, you couldn't win in a fight against him, so you allowed yourself to be dragged into the backyard and just hoped that your worst fears wouldn't come true.

Entering the backyard, Phinks let go of you once he reached the door at the back of the house and grabbed at the knob. Surprisingly, the door opened. It hadn't been locked? Had he known that?

He looked back to you, gesturing with his head as he told you “get inside.”

You did as you were told, taking a few steps into the house and trying to make out your surroundings. The house was completely dark, making it very hard to see inside.

Was there even anyone here?

Based on what Phinks began to yell out, it seemed that there was supposed to be.

“Fei! Hey, Fei!”

There wasn't any response to his calls, and as he shut and locked the door behind him, you heard him give out another order.

“Stay where you are.”

Despite knowing that he couldn't see you, you just nodded after hearing him say that. He didn't seem to care as you heard him move away from you.

You were then briefly blinded for a few moments when Phinks turned on the lights, and after your eyes had adjusted, you found yourself to be standing in a kitchen. It didn't look like it'd been used much, and as you looked around, you spotted a phone that was sitting by itself on the counter.

Phinks noticed that as well and he grabbed it, quickly unlocking the screen and going through the phone's contents, humming to himself as he looked it over.

Then he turned away and walked out, and you heard him walk about the rest of the house, hearing the sounds of his footsteps and the distant flicking of light switches.

It would be easy to get away right now.

All you would need to do was unlock the latch, slip out the door and then run like hell. It was dark outside, too, so if you needed, you could just hide somewhere and camp out until he left or gave up looking for you. And then you'd be free.

It wasn't a big house, though. He might easily hear when you'd unlock the latch and come rushing back before you even stepped a foot out of the door. And even if you did get out, where would you go from there? Try to seek refuge in one of the neighboring homes? Possibly put innocent people's lives at risk?

And what about what he said about his boss and the people he worked with? If you got away and told the police everything, would there be retribution waiting for you down the line? Did you really want to risk that?

You didn't know. You didn't know and that indecisiveness had you staying rooted in the spot where you stood.

In the time that it took for him to return to the kitchen, you probably could've gotten out. Yet you had stayed for all of your previous worries and the fear that the instant you decided to make a run for it would be the same instant he would come back for you.

But as he came walking back into the kitchen, there wasn't much you could do about that now, so you waited for him to tell you what to do.

Phinks slipped the phone into his pocket as he looked to you. He didn't say anything for a moment, and you didn't want to say anything without permission as you were too worried of crossing the line again.

He had to know by now that you weren't going to try anything, right? That all you wanted was to get out of this situation with your life and forget that this had even happened.

Right?

Phinks seemed to have come to some conclusion as he spoke once again.

“Follow me.”

Then he turned, walking off into what looked to be a living room.

You did as you were told, following him into that dark room.

He stopped in front of what appeared to be a sofa, and when you got close enough he reached out for you, grabbing you by your shoulder and using a bit more force than necessary to push you over onto the soft cushions.

You heard the clinking of metal against metal as he reached into his pocket, and in the low light you saw when he produced a pair of handcuffs.

“You've been doin' pretty good so far,” he said as he leaned down to grab one of your hands, “just keep it up and you'll get through this.”

The metal of the cuff was secured around your wrist with a click, and when he knelt down he pulled your hand down to the floor with him. The other cuff was attached to a rod of the sofa that connected the front and back legs, making it impossible for you to slip it off the piece of furniture and leaving you in an uncomfortable position.

“I'll get back to you in a bit,” Phinks told you. He gave a condescending pat on your head as he told you “stay here and don't make any noise.”

He walked off after that. You heard his footsteps becoming fainter and then heard a door close. Moments later, you could hear him talking, though the door made his voice sound muffled to the point that you couldn't make out what exactly he was saying. It seemed safe to assume he was speaking to someone on the phone. Maybe that “Fei” person he'd been calling out for when the two of you first arrived.

Bringing your attention back to the handcuffs, you tugged on your wrist experimentally. The chains of the cuffs stayed strong, which wasn't too surprising. The rod that the other cuff was attached to also seemed pretty solid, and there was no way to slide the cuffs off. You wouldn't be getting out of that unless you had a key or metal cutters of some kind.

Letting out a shaky sigh, you settled yourself down onto the sofa and tried to make yourself as comfortable as you could. It was tough to do that given the position of your arm, but you found that it wasn't too terrible if you laid down on your side.

As you lay on the sofa that you'd been locked to, in a dark, unknown house while a serial murderer sat in the other room having a phone conversation, it hit you how this shouldn't be happening to you.

By now you should've been back home. You should've taken a shower after having gotten off work and spent the time after relaxing to wind down from the day. You didn't work tomorrow, and you had planned to stay up late and watch a movie. Tomorrow you'd planned on doing some shopping, but overall you just planned for a lazy day of doing nothing in particular. Taking what you felt was a well-earned break from your schedule.

What would happen to you tomorrow? Would you even still be alive by the time tomorrow night came?

You felt the tears pricking your eyes again as you felt another urge to cry, and you weren't so certain that you'd be able to hold it off this time.

But he'd told you to be quiet.

Your solution ended up being to bury your face in a nearby pillow so you could let out all of the emotion you'd been bottling in, clutching it to your face so the fabric muffled the sounds of your sobs and screams. How long you stayed like that was unclear: every moment felt like a small eternity as you cried into the pillow, overwhelmed by how horrible and unfair the situation was.

Throughout all of that, Phinks never came back out, so you must've been following the order of keeping quiet well enough.

How you managed to fall asleep you weren't quite sure. It must've been the exhaustion of the situation that finally managed to force you into a state of dreamless sleep.

You only became aware of the fact that you'd fallen asleep when you felt a hand shaking you awake as a gruff voice told you “wake up.”

It was still dark, both outside the house and within it, and the only bit of light that was nearby came from down the hallway where Phinks had gone earlier. Phinks himself was standing in front of you, both arms crossed as he waited for you to get up.

From what you could see, it looked like he had showered as his face now free of the soot and blood that had been caked on when you had last seen him. He wasn't wearing the prison jumpsuit anymore, either, having switched to a pair of pants and a dark colored hoodie.

He was looking down at you rather impatiently as you sat up as best you could while still being cuffed to the sofa.

“You wanna sleep in the bedroom or out here?” he asked you.

“.... Whatever option that doesn't have me locked up,” you answered.

Evidently, that meant you were going to the bedroom, as Phinks then bent down to unlock the cuffs and pulling you up after. For some reason, he was smirking a little bit. Over what, you had no clue.

With a firm grip around your wrist, he pulled you into the bedroom, letting you go as he closed the door behind him.

And once again, you were locked in a small space with the convicted killer, and this time, it was uncertain as to what would be coming next.

He wasn't saying anything, and after a few moments of shifting your weight back and forth on your feet, you decided to settle yourself down on the bed, figuring that if he didn't want you to do that, he'd tell you. He still didn't say anything; he just kept watching you as he leaned against the door.

It was more than a little unsettling, but you chose not to say anything about it, waiting for him to say something as you sat on the edge of the bed.

“We're gonna be holing up in here for a few days,” he suddenly said.

“Days?” you asked.

“Yeah. Lay low for a bit until it's safe enough for us to leave,” he continued, “it's all been planned out.”

“.... By you and your boss?”

“You don't need to worry about that,” he said, “just keep doing as I say.”

The sudden harshness of his tone had you nodding obediently again. Safe to say that his mood swings were volatile. Better to not upset him if you could avoid it.

But you weren't liking the way he used the term “we”.

He went back to staring at you again while you fidgeted beneath his gaze. You reminded yourself about his instructions on not speaking unless he said otherwise, so as much as you wanted to ask him why he was doing that or what he was thinking, you stayed quiet. He'd tell you what he wanted you to do eventually, right?

“You don't put up much fight, do you?” Phinks asked.

“.... Did... Did you want me to?” you asked back.

“Not really, but this has been way easier than I was expecting,” he said, “you're really just gonna roll over that quickly?”

“You're a lot stronger than me,” you whispered, “and I don't want you to hurt me.”

“I'm not gonna hurt ya.”

With that, Phinks pushed off of the door and walked towards you. When he stood in front of where you were seated on the bed, you felt even more weak and insignificant as he loomed over you.

“Take off your shirt.”

It took you a few moments to process his words, and when you finally understood what he was after, you couldn't help but feel incredibly stupid that the thought of him wanting to sleep with you hadn't even crossed your mind until he decided to say something.

You didn't want to do this.

But your trembling hands went to hem of your shirt anyway, and slowly, you pulled it over your head.

Phinks grabbed the shirt once it was off of you completely and threw it to the other side of the room. Now your chest was covered by a thin undershirt and your bra, and you doubted that you would have those for much longer.

“Take off all of it.”

You knew it was coming, but that didn't make it any easier. You still followed his instruction, repeating the process with the undershirt. Although this time Phinks wasn't as happy with the pace you were going with.

When you had pulled the undershirt over your head, you saw the knife in his hand again. Your response to seeing that was to cry out and back away to the other side of the bed. Or try to, at least. Phinks grabbed you before you could move back too far. He then grabbed at your bra and used his knife to slash at it.

Within moments your bra was cut to pieces and your chest was bare, something Phinks was happy with as he ogled at your chest. Despite wanting to cover yourself, you knew that wouldn't be received well. So you sat there while you felt the heat rise to your cheeks as he stared at you.

“Even with this, you're not gonna fight me on it, huh?” he asked.

You looked away.

He laughed a little at that, saying “just as well. This kinda thing isn't worth possibly losing your life over.”

Phinks placed his knee on the bed as he leaned over you, and a hand grabbed you by the jaw and forced you to look back up at him. He muffled your surprised cry for a second time that night, but this time he did so with his mouth as he pressed his lips against yours.

He ended up pushing his weight onto you, forcing you to lay back on the bed while he kept you pinned beneath him. Phinks pushed his thigh between your legs, and when he pulled away from the kiss, he used his thigh to rub against your pussy through your pants. The action made you gasp, which seemed to be what he was looking for as he smirked at you after.

“You're more into this than I thought you'd be. Guess you must've been wanting this.”

That wasn't true. And he probably knew that, but he was enjoying taunting you while you were completely at his mercy.

Better to just take it, though, in the hopes that he didn't have any reason to hate you and would be more willing to let you go.

While Phinks had his mouth on one of your breasts, you managed to find your voice.

“Ph-Phinks.”

“Yeah?”

“After.... After all of this, then can I go home?” you asked.

Phinks pulled away so he could look at you, that smirk still on his face.

“Maybe.”

That was the only answer he gave, and he was clearly amused by the distress in your face upon hearing that. That after going through all of this, doing everything he said and being the best possible hostage for him, he still might not let you go.

Or worse, leave you dead.

He seemed to tell the thoughts going through your mind as he then said “don't worry. I told you that I'm not gonna hurt you.”

Phinks lifted himself off of you while his hands went to the zipper on his pants. You got a look at the clear bulge in his pants, which only made you more distressed.

But he said he wouldn't hurt you.

So he'd just have his fun, keep you here for a few days, and then you could leave. Go back home and try to resume your life. You'd definitely need a significant amount of therapy after, but you'd get out of this alive and mostly unscathed.

But when you looked back up to Phinks' face, and the way he smirked at you after pulling out his cock and making a move to tear your own pants off of your legs, something told you that it wouldn't be that simple. That getting this man to let you go wouldn't be as easy as he was making it out to be.

And even deeper down, something else told you that he wouldn't let you go at all.

You just hoped to god that the feeling you had was wrong.

#reader insert #yandere phinks #phinks x reader #phinks magcub #yandere #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere x reader #yandere hxh

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angryschnauzer · 3 years

Text

Undercover Honeymoon

Summary; Having survived a helicopter crash that killed off the gang you and your senior agent had infiltrated, you hide out from the storm that brought the aircraft down by pretending to be Honeymooners at a boutique hotel... but what will 24 hours with August Walker bring you? Trouble, that’s what, and the best possible kind.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader (no race or body type specified)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, honestly this is entirely smut, its a crack fic too. Sigh, here goes: face slap, murder, August in a hoodie and grey sweatpants, oral sex (female recieving), blowjob, drunken antics, impared judgement, titty fucking, fingering, unprotected sex, anal sex, inappropriate lube, multiple orgasms, dubious consent, choking, dom-vibes, Sugar Daddy arrangement (but no Daddy kink).

I do not run a tag list, but if you go and follow @angryschnauzerwrites and hit notifications, you’ll get an alert to any new stories i post. All previous fics can be found on there or on my Ao3

Undercover Honeymoon

The helicopter spiralled out of control, the tall pines looming through the storm of the century rain, screaming filled your ears, unsure if it was the sound of the engines failing or coming from your own lungs. The aircraft made contact with the trees and everything went black.

“Agent… AGENT!” a slap across your face sprang you from your unconscious state, your vision blurred and you winced at the sharp pain that shot through your temple as the face before you came into focus.

“Walker?” you muttered; “Can’t blow our cover…”

Strong arms gripped your shoulders;

“Wake UP! Everyone else is dead”

The next hour was surreal. Agent Walker - your superior officer - had pulled you from the wreckage of the helicopter, past the lifeless bodies of the gang you’d infiltrated, some of which had injuries that looked suspiciously like gunshot wounds. Either way you were alive and so was the other undercover agent, and having spent the last four days running bank robberies you were relieved to be rid of the brutal gang.

Agent Walker had half dragged half carried you through the forest, and even though it was the middle of the day, the torrential rain and dark storm clouds above made the way feel like you were travelling at twilight. When you stumbled on some roots he caught you, his arm firmly around your waist;

“C’mon Agent, not much further now…” his voice softer than usual, reassuring even.

“Where’re we going?”

“Out of season ski lodge… should be quiet this time of year, just a couple of wildlife watchers no doubt”

What you’d been expecting was a cute little place with checkered curtains and cutesy decor, what you’d arrived at was a luxury boutique hotel. Agent Walker had managed to spin a very convincing tale of your car leaving the highway due to the weather and he’d arrange to get it recovered after the storm so you could continue your ‘honeymoon’. The receptionist had smiled warmly and offered the pair of you the luxury suite, August merrily peeling $100 bills off a stack he’d produced from his pocket, the paper band that held them together from the robbery slyly crumpled up and you quietly picked it up from the floor, a tiny smirk on the corner of his face when he spotted you covering his rare mistake.

Ten minutes later you were settled in your shared room, starting to peel yourself out of your soaked boots and clothing as you eyed the enormous bathroom and ultra fluffy robes that were provided.

“I’m going to go to the gift shop…” he announced, breaking the silence; “They do hoodies and stuff, i’ll grab some dry things to change into…”

“Thanks Agent Walker… I’m going to take a bath…”

He nodded quietly, standing at the door;

“It’s August… call me August”

You must have fallen asleep in the bath, as the next thing you know there is an insistent knocking on the bathroom door;

“Honey? Honey, everything ok in there?”

“Y-yes, Sorry, fell asleep…”

“Ok Honey, just got room service here delivering some lunch”

“Thanks Aug… Augie…”

Augie? Where the hell did that come from? You mentally chastised yourself. An hour ago he was your senior agent and all round grumpy supervisor, now he was ‘Augie’? You actually facepalmed yourself before taking a deep breath and climbing out of the bath. A few moments later once you were dry, wearing the fluffy robe you stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, your breath catching in your throat;

“Augie… we have company?”

Agent Walker was standing in the middle of the room in his shirt, underwear and socks, talking to the room service attendant as he tipped the young man;

“Darling, lunch is here, you must be famished” he let a warm smile spread over his face as he turned to the staff member; “We must have a bite to eat… expending lots of energy, it is our honeymoon after all…”

Once he’d ushered the man out of the room he cleared his throat and his expression dropped, his face serious again;

“I got your new attire… it fits more with the location” he motioned for you to follow him to the bed where there were a number of things laid out, however your feet were rooted to the floor; “What?”

“You’re… you’re in your underwear…”

He looked down, almost in shock to discover he was without his cargo pants;

“Yes? And you’re completely naked beneath that fetching white robe” he motioned to a side of the bed where a bunch of things were sat on the pristine white duvet; “So unless you wish to eat lunch having me know you are naked save for a glorified towel with sleeves - and that would be a delightful thought - you may want to get changed whilst i shower”

Without another word he smirked, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and grabbed a pile of clothing on the bed, before sauntering into the bathroom, leaving you open jawed at both his sassiness and his tight ass in snug jersey boxers.

Turning back to what was laid on the bed you looked over what he’d managed to get in the hotel’s boutique; a daringly short floral summer dress, a hoodie with the Hotel’s logo on, a pack of novelty thong panties also with bears on, and the highest heeled wedge sandals you’d ever seen. Although none of this surprised you, it was after all the kind of hotel where in good weather, the rich and famous could have cocktails on the deck as they overlooked the Rocky mountains, the fact he’d managed to find your exact size in everything was impressive.

Leaving the heels off for now, you pull the panties and dress on, throwing the hoodie on unzipped to cover up a little, before going to investigate the food, realising that you probably hadn’t eaten for close to 24 hours. You were bent over the service trolley scrutinising the various dishes that had been delivered when you heard his voice;

“Huh, didn’t need to buy you a wallet, those tiny panties show off your silken purse beautifully Princess”

Spinning around you gasped, about to give him a piece of your mind but your train of thought stopped like a record scratch. There before you stood Agent August Walker, grey sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips, chest bare as he pulled a khaki green hoodie over his still damp curls. You noticed how his beard was a little beyond stubble, his mustache curling as a small smile tugged as his lips. Your gaze unashamedly ran down the length of his entire body, emphasis on length as it was clear he was without any underwear, and those rumours that were quietly whispered in the ladies room at the Pentagon were looking to be true as to exactly why they called him ‘The Hammer’.

Still holding a cooling French Fry he sauntered over to you before grabbing a sandwich from the platter;

“My apologies… that was inappropriate” he took a bite, before talking with his mouth full; “Been a crazy 24 hours huh?”

“Y-yeah, you could say that… so, what’s the plan?”

Just at that moment an incredible gust of wind rattled the windows to the point you thought they would blow in, the lights overhead flickered before settling back to bright as he answered;

“Eat, Drink, Sleep. We’re stuck here at least overnight. We don’t have any cells or electronics people can trace, and having checked the map this is not the closest civilisation to the crash site so even if people did come looking for us, this isn’t the first place they’d think of… however in this weather the roads are impassable, at least two rivers have breached their banks, we’re basically cut off from the rest of the world here in our own little bubble” he took a bite of sandwich before grinning at you; “So eat up, the bar downstairs is well stocked, dinner is apparently served in about 4 hours, and there’s a game room if you’re up for a round or two of pool…”

Giggling you both tumbled into your suite, August flicking the light switch up and down before realising the power had gone out at the exact moment he’d unlocked the door;

“Oooh dark… are you afraid of the dark Princess?”

The pair of you stumbled and turned, pushing the door shut and you found yourself pressed between it and August’s body, his lips finding your neck as he pressed kisses along your jugular, his facial hair leaving behind a trail of tingling skin in its wake;

“Depends who i’m in the dark with…”

He was so close, in the faint last traces of daylight as the storm took hold of the night you could see the outline of his face, how his long eyelashes rested against his cheeks as he closed his eyes, his breath warm on your skin as you were surrounded by his scent, pine soap and single malt whiskey;

“A monster…”

“I was never afraid of monsters…”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, pressing a kiss to your clothed stomach before his hands were beneath the skirt and pulling your novelty panties down;

“Hold your dress up Princess, show me that pretty pussy”

Doing as he told you, you gripped the pretty fabric in your hands as he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing kisses to your inner thighs before his thick fingers parted your folds and he dived in. His mustache and light beard pricked at your sensitive skin, but his tongue and lips soothed your aching core, desperate for attention and dripping with need as he went to town on you. He quickly brought you to orgasm before pushing you on for the next, his fingers now knuckle deep in your velvet walls, curling just right to find that spot that had you dripping, his tongue working against your clit to the point where you had to steady yourself by curling one hand through his soft chestnut curls, riding his face as you cried out his name.

Now over sensitive, you pulled his curls to get him to relent, a grunt of frustration coming from between your thighs;

“Augie… please… too sensitive…”

He quickly stood, lifting you to kiss you roughly, his tongue pushing into your mouth and you could taste yourself on his tongue as he gripped your ass as he carried you across the room before unceremoniously dropping you on the bed;

“Strip” he commanded as he staggered to the bathroom.

You ignored his request, instead reaching for a bottle of water at the side of the bed, taking a drink from he as he returned holding a bottle;

“August… what’s that?”

He looked down at the bottle, almost surprised he was holding something and blinked a few times before looking back at you;

“Baby oil. Its... Baby oil”

“Why do you have Baby oil?” you asked, already knowing the answer but with a sly streak wanting to get him to admit it

“Because they didn’t sell condoms in the gift shop so i cant fuck your pussy because i can’t check to see if you’re on birth control” he blurted out quickly.

Whatever you had been expecting, it hadn’t been that, and as you coughed on the water you had been about to drink, August got distracted and moved to light the candles that sat on the table in the centre of the room now that the only available light was the tiny light over the sink in the bathroom that was battery operated. You watched as he somehow managed to strike the matches and light the candles even though he was visibly drunk, before returning back to the bed and standing over you;

“Why aren’t you naked?” he frowned at you; “Don’t make me rip that pretty little dress off of you Princess”

Shimmying out of your dress you bit your lip as you watched him watching you, the low light dancing over your body and enough for you to see the obscene bulge barely contained by his sweatpants. He stood at the edge of the bed, towering over you before he took hold of your ankles and roughly pulled you to the edge of the bed before he pulled the grey sweats down and you finally got sight of his legendary hammer;

“Fuck…”

“We’ll get to that Princess, but first, suck”

Taking him in your hands he was hot and throbbing at your touch, his thick shaft patterned with veins, heavy and virile. You pumped your fist, your fingers unable to meet as you worked his uncut dick. You felt his hand on the back of your head, pulling you closer until you had no choice but to open your mouth and take him as deep as you could, gagging as he immediately hit the back of your throat and started to fuck your mouth.

Holding your head in place with both hands he rocked his hips back and forth, groaning as he stretched your lips almost uncomfortably. Soon you had spit running down your chin as he rained down a stream of degrading compliments;

“Cock hungry slut, look at you with my dick in your mouth… does it taste good, Jesus christ your tongue is perfect, yeah do that thing again, fuck, i can feel your throat tight around me…” with a gasp he pulled out, a trail of spittle hanging from your lips to his angry red tip, before he grabbed the baby oil and pushed you back until you were laying flat on the bed;

“Push your tits together, i’m gonna fuck them and cum all over your pretty face”

He climbed on the bed, straddling your lower torso as you found yourself pushing your breasts together. The click of a bottle of baby oil and it was being poured in the valley of your chest, before he settled his dick against the slick skin. He dropped the bottle and with a grunt pulled his hoodie over his head, revealing his glorious chest, covered in dark hair and thicker than you had realised.

His dick was heavy against your chest as he took your hands in his and showed you how he wanted you to hold your titties for him, rocking his hips bath and forth as his hot flesh slipped through your soft pillows, the angry tip poking out at your neck with each thrust;

“So fucking pretty, gonna cum all over that face… you wanna taste my cum you little slut? Yeah? Cock hungry slut, can’t get enough of my dick, can you?”

You didn’t answer, the lust in his eyes making you drunk with desire, instead you tipped your head to your chest and opened your mouth, letting August’s dick slide into your mouth, the salty tang of his precum hitting your senses.

His thrusts were becoming rough and violent, his hips squeezing your ribcage as he fought back against the urge to cum, but you wanted it, needed it;

“August, will you cum on my face, pretty please?” you batted your eyelashes at him innocently and it was the final straw, and you watched as he threw his head back and thick ropes of his creamy seed spurted over your mouth and cheeks as he groaned so deliciously. On the last spurt you leaned forwards and took his tip into your mouth, gently laving your tongue over the leaking slit, before releasing him softly. August had eased his gasp on your tits, and using his thick finger he scooped the cum from your cheek;

“Open wide Princess”

Sticking your tongue out you sucked the bitter treat from his finger, before he repeated it with the other cheek. Finally swallowing you grinned at him;

“Thank you August”

His hand paused on your cheek, softly cupping it;

“Anything for you Princess… now scoot up the bed, i wanna eat that pussy again whilst i get you ready for my dick”

He swung his leg over so you could wriggle up the bed, and immediately he was laying between your legs, both of your thighs over his shoulders as he started to sloppily eat you out again, except this time his lubed fingers strayed to your asshole and he already had one knuckle deep in your back entrance. You were writhing against his tongue, and although not as accurate with his targets this time now that the alcohol in his system was taking hold, that wide tongue was driving you to heaven as his fingers pulled you down into the dark pits of depravity that hell could only contain. You were uttering almost incomprehensible gibberish, begging for more which he eagerly gave, a second and soon a third finger stretching your ass as he prepared you for what was yet to come. You came with a scream as his wide tongue tormented your pussy until you had to physically pull him by his curls to stop, breathless as you watched him kneel on the bed and grab the baby oil, pouring some onto his hand to lube his dick before smoothing a considerable amount over your asshole and lined up his now raging hard on with your stretched hole. He paused, looking down at you;

“Final chance to back out… do you want me to fuck your ass?”

“Yes… please August, i want your dick in my ass, i want you to cum in my ass, treat me like a dirty anal slut”

With a groan he pushed forwards, slowly breaching your body and you felt the uncomfortable stretch of having a dick slide into your ass. Even with the prep and the oil it still took a while for your body to relax enough for him to push in, but when he eventually was balls deep in your ass you felt so full you were sure you would burst;

“Oh my god… You’re so big…”

“Taking me like a champ Princess, even with the oil your ass is so fucking tight i’m struggling not to blow my load right here and now”

“Fuck my ass August, do it hard, i wanna feel it in the morning…”

With a roar he started to fuck into you, holding himself up on his massive arms as his hips pistoned into you, filling your barren depths as his pubic bone rubbed against your empty pussy and your juices flooded his crotch;

“So fucking wet Princess, leaking all down your ass, its only adding to the lube so i can fuck you harder. Your poor little battered asshole, you’re barely gonna be able to sit tomorrow… apart from back on my dick as we have breakfast, don’t think this is the only time i’m gonna fuck your ass, i’m gonna use this hole until you’re loose and stretched, so i can just bend you over and slide my dick into your ass. Gonna hide those stupid panties i bought you, i want you walking around bare, my cum dripping down your legs where there’s so much inside you, you can barely keep it inside… shame the gift shop didn’t sell plugs, i woulda’ filled you with my load and have you plugged and ready lubed for me to use whenever i pleased…”

August’s dirty talk had you cumming hard, squeezing him tight and yet he fucked you straight through it. Laying limp as he continued to fill your ass he slowed and moved, kneeling on the bed as he moved your legs from either side of his lips until both your feet were over one of his shoulders, pushing and pulling you until he had one arm firmly wrapped around your knees and he could fuck into your ass as he held you like a rag doll. The new position was tighter, deeper, and as you started to pant out with lust his free hand rested on your throat, squeezing carefully but firmly;

“Harder…” you panted out, your head swimming as your airway was restricted, and as he pounded into your ass you were both getting close.

“Gonna cum in your ass, fill you up with a massive load, you want that Princess?”

You tried to say yes, but all that came out was a tiny croak as his massive hand gripped your throat. Before you could even try again your orgasm hit, your eyes rolling back in their sockets as you squirted, your body gripping him so tight he reached his peak, pushing in as deep as he could as he pumped your ass full of his cum.

August released his grip on your neck, pulling out gently as he softly lay your legs on the bed;

“Did so well Princess, such a good little slut…”

You could only hum out a response, your mind as used as your body was.

You woke to the sound of soft rain falling against the window, peering out from beneath the duvet you could see that the grey light of morning was filling the room, the storm seemingly blown mostly through with just a persistent rain now dampening the earth. Shifting on the bed you winced, everything was sore, but especially your ass. But then a warm body pressed to your back, a large hand smoothed over your stomach and a familiar voice spoke softly in your ear as stubble brushed against your bare shoulders;

“Rise and shine…”

“Hmmmmm no, i don’t wanna get up” you grumbled

“But…”

“Noooo. If we get up then we’ve got to think about things going back to normal, i just wanna pretend i’m able to stay in a hotel as nice as this when i’m not trying to escape a dangerous gang… too many responsibilities, too much stress… i just want another half hour of being treated like a Princess” you grumbled.

A quiet chuckle came from behind you;

“There’s no reason why we can’t do this again”

Turning in his arms, you looked at August;

“How? You’re my superior Agent, the CIA pushes and pushes and pushes, I never get enough time off to do something like this, If i had known i was literally signing my life away i would never have signed up for the academy. What’s the fucking use of earning a good wage if i can never enjoy it… and its not even that good of a wage to be honest…” you paused and narrowed your gaze; “Have you showered?”

“Yes. And i have a proposition for you…”

“Keep talking…”

August started to move, slowly climbing between your legs and you felt his hard dick resting against your folds, your pussy instinctively growing wet, slowly rubbing against you as he smiled down at you;

“As a senior agent i get a considerably better wage than you do, but i don’t have anyone to share it with, anyone to treat like a Princess and spoil with gifts that they deserve… but i also want someone that will be agreeable to my darkest desires…” he rocked his hips back before slowly parting his thighs, and you felt the nudge of his tip at your soaked pussy; “... someone, a woman i can treat like a Princess but will let me fuck them like a whore… can i fuck your pussy like a whore?”

The gentle nudge of his dick just stretching the ring of muscle that granted access to the heaven between your legs had you begging, pleading to be August’s Whore. He let out a sigh of pleasure as he slowly sank into your pussy, bare and unprotected filling you with his virile shaft;

“You’re my Slutty Princess…taking my dick like a pro”

In that hotel room August Walker became your sugar Daddy, and over room service breakfast you agreed the details of your arrangement as you sat on his lap, his dick in your ass as he fed you strawberries, before he grew impatient and bounced you on his dick until he came in your barren depths. Resting back against his chest, his softening dick still inside you he played with your pussy as he discussed the next step, trying to decide if a trip to an adult store or a jewellery store should be the first stop after returning to DC;

“How about a jewelled plug?” you suggested; “That’s the best of both worlds”

Holding your jaw he turned your head so he could kiss you, pulling away and grinning;

“See, that’s why you’re the perfect Princess, smart and sexy…”

You felt him start to harden in your ass again, wriggling and letting out a giggle as you felt him stretch your insides;

“Over the table or out on the balcony in the rain?” you asked

“Oooh lets do the balcony… its check out time so a few other guests will be able to see my little slut have her battered asshole filled with another load”

There on the balcony that overlooked the serene mountains August filled your ass again, your naked bodies soaked with the rain as he gripped your breasts whilst he fucked you from behind.

You couldn’t wait to be August’s play thing.

#august walker #august walker x reader #august walker smut #henry cavill

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 2 years

Text

Doctor Who, but Chronologically 9

It’s 1651! And we continue on this very stupid project to find Peter Capaldi, sans any companion at all, trying to interrupt a highway robbery.

This is actually the first episode in this run of Capaldi’s that I’ve genuinely enjoyed with only a minor blip, the minor blip being that Capaldi’s Doctor is an asshole and continues to be here, but it cannot be stressed enough how much more likeable he is than normal, so there’s that. Also - and this is probably even bigger - our immortal Viking friend is back and spends the entire episode calling him an asshole while he pisses and moans about how nothing is his fault, so that’s fun. Fuck him up, Maisie.

Speaking of which! This is our first plot thread we’re getting answers for! Hooray! Immortal Viking lady is back. Turns out she’s very much an autodidact because what the fuck else are you going to spend your time doing when you’re immortal? Queen. Good for her. She has but one wish: for the Doctor to actually take him with her, which is entirely reasonable. Instead, he faffs about for a whole episode whining about how he doesn’t want to and not even giving her the respect of a straight answer until the end, when he says it doesn’t work to have two immortals travel together.

It’s actually a really nice philosophy and moral about the meaning of life, but I’ll admit it sits very poorly because

A) There was nothing at all wrong with him travelling with Romana back in the day so it just feels weirdly like the Divorce of Lalla Ward and Tom Baker is physically manifesting itself into the script, and

B) WHY CAN’T HE JUST TAKE HER TO THE FUTURE AND LET HER TRAVEL BY HERSELF IN A TIME PERIOD THAT HAS THE TECHNOLOGY AND WON’T BE VIOLENTLY OPPRESSIVE TO HER

Like for FUCK’S sake the episode literally begins with her saying the average life expectancy is now 35 and the Doctor just goes “Cool, also there’s another round of the Black Death coming so everyone you know will die, anyway it would ruin my vibe if you came with me so lol stay here but also I’mma judge you.”

Dickhead.

Anyway shout out to Rufus Hound for both a very entertaining comedy performance AND a genuinely very poignant gallows performance. Also I don’t especially rate Her From Game Of Thrones as an actor but she did do pretty well here. So that’s nice.

New plot threads, though! Who is Captain Jack Harkness? He’s immortal apparently, and will “Get round to you.” Viking lady is now called Me, and has decided that she’s on clean up - she’s the one who helps after the Doctor just fucks off and abandons people. For no reason I can fathom, he thinks that’s sinister. Very unclear why. God I hate this version of the Doctor. And he’s racially abusive to a lion man. Fuck ‘im.

Let’s update the Plot Thread List!

“She” (an unknown person) is returning (perhaps River returned as Missy. NEW INFO: maybe Me?)

There is something on Donna’s back

An entire planet, Pyrovilia, just… disappeared, somehow. (Maybe because the TARDIS is exploding??? Saturnine was also lost, and that WAS because of the TARDIS exploding. NEW INFO: the lion man’s planet was also lost but he was a bit of a knob about it if I’m honest.)

Amy is maybe dead

The Doctor has been cubed (he’s out, but how?)

River is possibly blown up (unless she’s Missy)

The TARDIS has blown up (It’s fine now)

The universe appears to have ended (the universe is back again)

The Doctor has employed(?) Nardole

There’s a vault in the TARDIS and it contains Missy but we don’t know why

What has happened to all these companions and where are the new ones coming from?

There’s an immortal Viking girl now. NEW INFO: her name is Me and she’s now looking after the people the Doctor abandons

Who/what is the Half-Faced Man that the Doctor talked about?

Why, when the Doctor saw the ship’s computer set to the Promised Land, did he say “Oh not again”?

What’s With The Silence?

Why was Rory entirely unconcerned by the entire world suddenly going silent when that is Not Normal and should have been, at the very least, extremely disconcerting?

Who is Rose and why is she not here?

What did the Doctor do to Queen Lizzie One?

Who is Captain Jack Harkness?

#doctor whom #and yet we are continuing

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nellygwyn · 4 years

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I thought I would share some portraits/info about notable black men and women who worked and lived in Georgian Britain. This is not an extensive list by any means, and for some figures, portraits are unavailable:

1. Olaudah Equiano (1745-1797) was a writer, abolitionist and former slave. Born into what would become southern Nigeria, he was initially sold into slavery and taken to the Caribbean as a child, but would be sold at least twice more before he bought his freedom in 1766. He decided to settle in London and became involved in the British abolitionist movement in the 1780s. His first-hand account of the horrors of slavery 'The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano' was published in 1789 and it really drove home the horrors of slavery to the general British public. He also worked tirelessly to support freed slaves like himself who experienced racism and inequality living in Britain's cities. He was a leading member of the Sons of Africa, an abolitionist group, whose members were primarily freed black men (the Sons of Africa has been called the first black political organisation in British history). He married an English woman, Susannah, and when he died in 1797, he left his fortune of roughly £73,000 to his daughter, Joanna. Equiano's World is a great online resource for those interested in his life, his work, and his writings.

2. Ignatius Sancho (1729-1780) was a bit of a jack-of-all-trades (he's described as an actor, composer, writer, abolitionist, man-of-letters, and socialite - truly the perfect 18th century gentleman). He was born in the Middle Passage on a slave ship. His mother died not long after they arrived in Venezuela and his father apparently took his own life rather than become a slave. Sancho's owner gave the boy to three sisters living in London c. 1730s (presumably as a sort of pet/servant) but whilst living with them, his wit and intellect impressed the 2nd Duke of Montagu who decided to finance his education. This was the start of Sancho's literary and intellectual career and his association with the elite of London society saw him ascend. He struck up a correspondence with the writer, Laurence Sterne, in the 1760s: Sancho wrote to press Sterne to throw his intellecrual weight behind the cause of abolition. He became active in the early British abolitionist movement and be counted many well-known Georgians amongst his acquaintance. He was also the first black man known to have voted in a British election. He married a West Indian woman and in 1774, opened a grocer's shop in London, that attempted to sell goods that were not produced by slave labour. Despite his popularity in Georgian society, he still recounts many instances of racist abuse he faced on the streets of London in his diaries. He reflected that, although Britain was undoubtedly his home and he had done a lot for the country, he was 'only a lodger and hardly that' in London. His letters, which include discussions of domestic subjects as well as political issues, can be read here.

3. Francis 'Frank' Barber (1742-1801) was born a slave on a sugar plantation in Jamaica. His owner, Richard Bathurst, brought Frank to England when Frank turned 15 and decided to send him to school. The Bathursts knew the writer, Samuel Johnson, and this is how Barber and the famous writer first met (Barber briefly worked as Johnson's valet and found him an outspoken opponent of the slave trade). Richard Bathurst gave Frank his freedom when he died and Frank immediately signed up for the navy (where he apparently developed a taste for smoking pipes). In 1760, he returned permanently to England and decided to work as Samuel Johnson's servant. Johnson paid for Frank to have an expensive education and this meant Frank was able to help Johnson revise his most famous work, 'Dictionary of the English Language.' When Johnson died in 1784, he made Frank his residual heir, bequeathing him around £9000 a year (for which Johnson was criticised in the press - it was thought to be far too much), an expensive gold watch, and most of Johnson's books and papers. Johnson also encouraged Frank to move to Lichfield (where Johnson had been born) after he died: Frank duly did this and opened a draper's shop and a school with his new wife. There, he spent his time 'in fishing, cultivating a few potatoes, and a little reading' until his death in 1801. His descendants still live at a farm in Litchfield today. A biography of Frank can be purchased here. Moreover, here is a plaque erected on the railings outside of Samuel Johnson's house in Gough Square, London, to commemorate Johnson and Barber's friendship.

4. Dido Elizabeth Belle (1764-1801) was born to Maria Belle, a slave living in the West Indies. Her father was Sir John Lindsay, a British naval officer. After Dido's mother's death, Sir John took Dido to England and left her in the care of his uncle, Lord Mansfield. Dido was raised by Lord Mansfield and his wife alongside her cousin, Elizabeth Murray (the two became as close as sisters) and was, more or less, a member of the family. Mansfield was unfortunately criticised for the care and love he evidently felt for his niece - she was educated in most of the accomplishments expected of a young lady at the time, and in later life, she would use this education to act as Lord Mansfield's literary assistant. Mansfield was Lord Chief Justice of England during this period and, in 1772, it was he who ruled that slavery had no precedent in common law in England and had never been authorised. This was a significant win for the abolitionists, and was brought about no doubt in part because of Mansfield's closeness with his great-niece. Before Mansfield died in 1793, he reiterated Dido's freedom (and her right to be free) in his will and made her an heiress by leaving her an annuity. Here is a link to purchase Paula Byrne's biography of Dido, as well as a link to the film about her life (starring Gugu Mbatha-Raw as Dido).

5. Ottobah Cugoano (1757-sometime after 1791) was born in present-day Ghana and sold into slavery at the age of thirteen. He worked on a plantation in Grenada until 1772, when he was purchased by a British merchant who took him to England, freed him, and paid for his education. Ottobah was employed as a servant by the artists Maria and Richard Cosway in 1784, and his intellect and charisma appealed to their high-society friends. Along with Olaudah Equiano, Ottobah was one of the leading members of the Sons of Africa and a staunch abolitionist. In 1786, he was able to rescue Henry Devane, a free black man living in London who had been kidnapped with the intention of being returned to slavery in the West Indies. In 1787, Ottobah wrote 'Thoughts And Sentiments On The Evil & Wicked Traffic Of The Slavery & Commerce Of The Human Species,' attacking slavery from a moral and Christian stand-point. It became a key text in the British abolition movement, and Ottobah sent a copy to many of England's most influential people. You can read the text here.

6. Ann Duck (1717-1744) was a sex worker, thief and highwaywoman. Her father, John Duck, was black and a teacher of swordmanship in Cheam, Surrey. He married a white woman, Ann Brough, in London c. 1717. One of Ann's brothers, John, was a crew-member of the ill-fated HMS Wager and was apparently sold into slavery after the ship wrecked off the coast of Chile on account of his race. Ann, meanwhile, would be arrested and brought to trial at least nineteen times over the course of her lifetime for various crimes, including petty theft and highway robbery. She was an established member of the Black Boy Alley Gang in Clerkenwell by 1742, and also quite frequently engaged in sex work. In 1744, she was given a guilty verdict at the Old Bailey after being arrested for a robbery: her trial probably wasn't fair as a man named John Forfar was paid off for assisting in her arrest and punishment. She was hanged at Tyburn in 1744. Some have argued that her race appears to have been irrelevant and she experienced no prejudice, but I am inclined to disagree. You can read the transcript of one of Ann Duck's trials (one that resulted in a Not Guilty verdict) here. Also worth noting that Ann Duck is the inspiration behind the character Violet Cross in the TV show 'Harlots.'

7. Bill Richmond (1763-1829) was a prize winning bare-knuckle boxer of the late 18th and early 19th century. He was born a slave in New York (then part of British America) but moved permanently to England in 1777 where he was most likely freed and received an education. His career as a boxer really took of in the early 19th century, and he took on all the prize fighters of the time, including Tom Cribb and the African American fighter, Tom Molineaux. Richmond was a sporting hero, as well as fashionable in his style and incredibly intelligent, making him something of a celebrity and a pseudo-gentleman in his time. He also opened a boxing academy and gave boxing lessons to gentlemen and aristocrats. He would ultimately settle in York to apprentice as a cabinet-maker. Unfortunately, in Yorkshire, he was subject to a lot of racism and insults based on the fact he had married a white woman. You can watch a Channel 4 documentary on Richmond here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

8. William Davidson (1781-1820) was the illegitimate son of the Attorney General of Jamaica and a slave woman. He was sent to Glasgow in Scotland to study law at the age of 14 and from this period until 1819, he moved around Britain and had a number of careers. Following the Peterloo Massacre in 1819, Davidson began to take a serious interest in radical politics, joining several societies in order to read radical and republican texts. He also became a Spencean (radical political group) through his friendship with Arthur Thistlewood and would quickly rise to become a leading member of the group. In 1820, a government provocateur tricked Davidson and other Spenceans, into being drawn into a plot to kill the Earl of Harrowby and other government cabinet officers as they dined at Harrowby's house on the 23rd February. This plot would become known as the Cato Street Conspiracy (named thus because Davidson and the other Spenceans hid in a hayloft in Cato Street whilst they waited to launch their plan). Unfortunately, this was a government set up and eleven men, including Davidson, were arrested and charged with treason. Davidson was one of five of the conspirators to not have his sentence commuted to transportation and was instead sentenced to death. He was hanged and beheaded outside of Newgate Prison in 1820. There is a book about the Cato Street Conspiracy here.

9. Ukawsaw Gronniosaw (1705-1775) was born in the Kingdom of Bornu, now in modern day Nigeria. As the favourite grandson of the king of Zaara, he was a prince. Unfortunately, at the age of 15, he was sold into slavery, passing first to a Dutch captain, then to an American, and then finally to a Calvinist minister named Theodorus Frelinghuysen living in New Jersey. Frelinghuysen educated Gronniosaw and would eventually free him on his deathbed but Gronniosaw later recounted that when he had pleaded with Frelinghuysen to let him return to his family in Bornu, Frelinghuysen refused. Gronniosaw also remembered that he had attempted suicide in his depression. After being freed, Gronniosaw set his sights on travelling to Britain, mainly to meet others who shared his new-found Christian faith. He enlisted in the British army in the West Indies to raise money for his trip, and once he had obtained his discharge, he travelled to England, specifically Portsmouth. For most of his time in England, his financial situation was up and down and he would move from city to city depending on circumstances. He married an English weaver named Betty, and the pair were often helped out financially by Quakers. He began to write his life-story in early 1772 and it would be published later that year (under his adopted anglicised name, James Albert), the first ever work written by an African man to be published in Britain. It was an instant bestseller, no doubt contributing to a rising anti-slavery mood. He is buried in St Oswald's Church, Chester: his grave can still be visited today. His autobiography, A Narrative of the Most Remarkable Particulars in the Life of James Albert Ukawsaw Gronniosaw, an African Prince, as Related by Himself, can be read here.

10. Mary Prince (1788-sometime after 1833) was born into slavery in Bermuda. She was passed between several owners, all of whom very severely mistreated her. Her final owner, John Adams Wood, took Mary to England in 1828, after she requested to be able to travel as the family's servant. Mary knew that it was illegal to transport slaves out of England and thus refused to accompany Adams Wood and his family back to the West Indies. Her main issue, however, was that her husband was still in Antigua: if she returned, she would be back in enslavement, but if she did not, she might never see her husband again. She contacted the Anti-Slavery Society who attempted to help her in any way they could. They found her work (so she could support herself), tried tirelessly to convince Adams Wood to free her, and petitioned parliament to bring her husband to England. Mary successfully remained in England but it is not known whether she was ever reunited with her husband. In 1831, Mary published The History of Mary Prince, an autobiographical account of her experiences as a slave and the first work written by a black woman to be published in England. Unlike other slave narratives, that had been popular and successful in stoking some anti-slavery sentiment, it is believed that Mary's narrative ultimately clinched the goal of convincing the general British population of the necessity of abolishing slavery. Liverpool's Museum of Slavery credits Mary as playing a crucial role in abolition. You can read her narrative here. It is an incredibly powerful read. Mary writes that hearing slavers talk about her and other men and women at a slave market in Bermuda 'felt like cayenne pepper into the fresh wounds of our hearts.'

#18th century history #georgian britain #black history #olaudah equiano #ignatius sancho #francis barber #dido elizabeth belle #ottonah cugoano #ann duck #bill richmond #william davidson #uksawsaw gronniosaw #mary prince

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the-real-tc · 3 years

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Heartland Ep. 1502 Review: “Runaway”

"Runaway" was another beautiful episode to continue ushering in Season 15, so thanks to episode writer Mark Haroun, the entire cast and crew, and a shout-out to Keith Power (who isn't singled out nearly enough for his efforts). I was particularly impressed with the scoring of the scenes with the stallion running in the open field.

Following in the excellence that was the S15 premiere episode, "Runaway" also has all the elements of a classic Heartland episode in all the right proportions: drama, humor, romance, and family togetherness. A thread that will obviously run through this season is this mysterious rash of break-ins happening in Hudson. Disgraced ballplayer Sam Langston's place is the latest to be hit, and during the nighttime robbery, the wild black stallion gets loose and runs away. Far from writing off the wildie, Sam apparently has a soft spot for him and ropes Amy in to try to track him down. (One wonders if Sam has his own designs on widow Amy at this point. Hmm. Time will tell.)

Much of the episode revolves around the hunt-and-chase for this stallion, including a harrowing highway pursuit with Sam behind the wheel. The stallion was destined for an overseas meat market ("That's a thing?!" Sam's incredulous question was so great because it showed his shock and then disgust at what was going to happen to the stallion, and a few others unfortunately caught by the kill buyers.) Fortunately, Sam's notoriety/fame helped convince the star-struck horse-trailer driver to admit what was going on with the captured horses, and eventually led to the recovery of the stallion. The other big plot was about Lisa taking a cue from Jack's recent acquisition of Mitch's herd. She's taken on a big investment in a horse—Platinum Bow—that apparently has legs that could win the Kentucky Derby. She outbids her nearest competitor to the tune of 800K. (The look on Jack's face was priceless as he watched the bidding process unfold.) Unfortunately, Bow almost immediately presents with some troubling medical problems, and OH MY GOSH is that SCOTT??! Yes, ladies and gents, that's the good Dr. Cardinal gracing our screens again, looking better than ever. He checks Bow over, initially diagnosing mild colic, but also discovers inflamed hooves, which could indicate laminitis. Uh-oh. Is Lisa's big investment turning out to be a big dud?! With all this going on in the lives of the Bartlett-Fleming clan, the problem of childcare for Lyndy is becoming a bone of contention. Lisa is starting to really feel taken for granted (and I'm surprised it's taken her this long to reach boiling point). Katie and tag-along pal Parker make a case for being allowed to baby-sit ("I know how to do baby CPR" Katie declares at one point), but busy Madame Mayor Lou isn't quite sold on the idea. Thankfully, the girls have an ally in mayoral assistant Rick, who helps them put together a very polished proposal for Lou to peruse that highlights their (untested) babysitting skills. (LOL at the "TRAGIC" sticky note one of the girls taped to his back for all his efforts to help them. Silly girls.) Other plots of note: Caleb has brought the rodeo school into the 21st century in Tim's six-month absence (more on that later), and Jessica Cook is feeling cooped up in the loft (we got a "previously on Heartland" scene showing her with Tim in the loft—a scene we actually did not previously see, thanks, editors of the Ep. 1501... grumble). She's also feeling a bit down, because her photography submissions to an art gallery in Calgary were rejected. Tim, however, encourages her to keep trying, even if it means starting small in little old Hudson. Jessica convinces a skeptical and mildly jealous Lou to allow her to display and sell her photos in Maggie's. After selling a few, Jessica decides she wants more exposure and puts up a booth outside the diner. People flock to it, but she's soon shut down by a bylaw officer. Now, I admit I initially thought Madame Mayor Lou had sabotaged Jessica's booth, but she had nothing to do with this one. In fact, Lou even feels sorry for Jessica, and suggests her new stepmother take her booth to the Dude Ranch and sell to the guests there. Jessica isn't keen at first, but by the end of the episode, she's run with the idea and turns it into an art market, inviting other local artists to display their wares. When it attracts tourists from Hudson, Lou graciously accepts it was a good idea that Jessica overstepped her bounds, and admits she's kicking herself for not thinking of doing an art market herself. Caleb and the Rodeo School. The students love the easy-going cowboy, but his nice-guy schtick has led the students to be a bit lazy and their performances in competition have suffered for it. Seeing this, Tim decides it's not time to hang up his spurs quite yet. He wants to keep going with the school, and will play bad-cop to Caleb's good-cop to make the students the best they can be. Oh, and Tim even THANKS Caleb for his good work (even though he initially hated the change from paper forms to an online system, and his new "holistic" approach to rodeoing). Side note: Marriage seems to agree with Tim. I haven't seen him this mellow and emotionally balanced since, well, ever. He's still got a bit of brashness to him (see how he handled Sam and the truck driver hauling the horses as proof), but he's also not nearly as insufferable as he used to be. By the close of the episode, Jack has read his granddaughters the riot act over how they've been treating Lisa, and they come to fully realise just how much they've disregarded Lisa's own busy life and issues. It's a talk that's been a long time coming, in my opinion, and Lou and Amy thankfully take it to heart. The girls pay a visit to Fairfield to check in on Lisa and Platinum Bow, express their gratitude for all Lisa has done for them over the years, and that things will be different from now on (they've agreed to let Katie and Parker try this babysitting thing). It's a lovely little scene between these three characters I think a lot of us have been hoping to see ever since Lisa married Jack and moved in to Heartland. It turns out Bow has Potomac Horse Fever, something that at his young age he should be able to recover from. In any case Amy has brought along a gift (or peace-offering, whichever way you wish to look at it) of some immune-boosting herbs for his feed. Despite this less-than-auspicious start, Jack wants to toast Lisa's new horse. They share a little champagne on the back of Goldie 2.0 in the afternoon sun, and it's just a lovely relaxing scene between the two. Nope, they're not going to be retiring until they're MUCH, MUCH older, they pledge. 🙂 Love it, and I hope this dream is fulfilled. Final thoughts: warm welcome to the Heartland family to Baye McPherson. It can't be easy stepping into a role that's been occupied by four kids prior to you, but you're doing a fine job as the "new" Katie. And to all those who think you're looking too grown up for the role, all I have to say is this: Have they even seen your on-screen "parents"? 🤣 I look forward to seeing more of your shenanigans with Ava Tran's Parker and the Spencer twins' Lyndy. So YAY for another beautiful episode, and I eagerly anticipate next week's show.

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million-gil-messiah · 2 years

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🆂🅲🅰🅿🅴🅶🅾🅰🆃

"SON OF A FUCKING BITCH!!"

Leviticus hardly flinched as a set of papers fluttered and twirled by his face in contest with the air, and the force of which they'd been thrown from the ruddy hands of his associate. Across the desk from the Garlean businessman was a much smaller, much angrier Lalafellin merchant. Another one of many who had sought him out amidst a fresh wave of thefts and highway robbery.

“My goods aren’t coming, I’m assuming is what you’re about to tell me.” the entrepreneur assumes, just as the cascading complaints come tumbling from the tiny merchant’s mouth. He didn’t look surprised, but then again it was hard to be when he had orchestrated the robbery to begin with. One investment, sacrificed for another.

"This is the THIRD shipment this fucking -moon-. One MOON and I've lost /thousands/ in goods, and gods damned travel costs. Hundreds of thousands, thanks to these fucking PEASANTS--” blah, blah, blah...Leviticus could barely keep the boredom from sliding across his own angular features but did his best in providing the occasional placating nod as the merchant continued to rant and rave.

“Do you have any idea what went wrong?”

The merchant seemed to grow nervous, explaining the situation to his client. “I...don’t. Not entirely. Got the letter this morning in place of the shipment that was supposed to come in. There was a note found at the scene. That fucking HIGHWAYMAN is still out roaming the fucking roads, and the Blades can’t do their bleedin’ jobs.”

“Ah, yes. The one in the papers and on the bounty boards. So that’s what went wrong. The notorious ‘Outlaw’. ” He leads the angry merchant to a conclusion like a snake leading Eve to the apple. Yet with all this conversation about Levi’s presumed lost goods, not once did the grubby little merchant apologize for the inconvenience. It was bad business...never mind the fact that Leviticus had all the stolen supplies sent to a storage. It was just the principle of things.

“Fucking apparently. Couple that with the Blades being short-staffed with the war, I might as well sell my fucking business and cut what profits I can.”

Levi’s head lifted as the first thing of interest all morning captured his attention. “They claim staffing issues with the war and the push to get refugees up north, I hear. I hadn’t thought it was this bad though.” he feigns a moment of thought, and then motions. “You know, I’ve got a meeting with one of the Gerbera Captains today. I’ve a licensing issue to resolve, and while I’m there I'll mention what you’ve said to the Blades and see if I can’t get something done for you.”

The shortstack merchant’s eyes widened with surprise at the other man’s graciousness, and then he growled and threw a hand up. “Good fuckin’ luck. I’ve sent a number of letters -- all of which have been ignored. But if you get a good word in for me, I’d appreciate that.”

Levi stood, buttoning up his ash colored jacket to reclaim his manicured appearance. “We’ll see what I can do."

🅴🅻🆂🅴🆆🅷🅴🆁🅴...

A man of more significant stature was forced to endure a similar ‘discussion’, if it could truly be called that. It was more so a disciplinary monologue from his higher-ups containing a slew of curses and frustrations passed on to him from the spineless merchants who demanded he spread himself and his men so thin that their presence was hardly a deterrence where ever they stood.

The attacks had increased. Chaos unfolded itself on the daily. He would have assumed that the new treaties with the heathen beast tribes would aid in lessening his work load. He recalled that when that damnable tower had first risen, attacks seemed to increase tenfold and the foes were all the more formidable for their twisted faiths. Each caravan that failed to arrive would later be found by patrols, its cargo abandoned and its people...nowhere to be found.

There had been a brief peace after the tower had fallen, yet as more of his men and women were called to the northern front, the ability to protect more local assets had diminished considerably. With the Amal’jaa acting now as allies, there was less of a deterrence on the roads, and the lack of a Brass Blade presence had encouraged the less civilized. Supplies had grown scarce as overseas trade diminished, leaving provisions to the highest bidder or to the bandits who took liberties to patrol the roads in search of a quick haul. Odh was tired...so very, very tired.

The pearl call ended with a venomous “Get it fixed, Odh, or else.” from his superior officer, and he knew that meant they’d be looking to transfer him somewhere his failures couldn’t reach them. Somewhere like...Lost Hope, a place he’d joked once where careers went to die. It did not seem so funny now.

If he was being completely honest, an early retirement would likely suit him, but his pride wouldn’t allow him to do so in shame and his superiors were unlikely to allow him any kind of peaceful retreat now. He continued to look over a note that said “Courtesy of The Outlaw”, frowning deeply at the bit of evidence collected from the most recent scene. Of course, it would be him. That fucking c---

Knock-Knock!

Startled, his attention swept up towards the door, swiftly divided from his thoughts by the rapping upon it. Briefly, his umber gaze fell upon his calendar to confirm that he had no meetings or plans for the day, only to see that he’d missed a note written some time ago. Odh pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath to collect himself and set the note aside. “...Come in, and state your business.” he declared in a charcoal rumble, eyes narrowing upon the entryway to his office.

The heavy wooden door is pushed open smoothly as a tall and slender man in a white hat and an ash gray suit stepped in. He had angular features and a smile that was far too charming to trust. He extended a hand immediately, striding right up to Odh’s desk with a confidence he also did not like.

Odh deferred to his personal notation, narrowing his gaze before he stood and shook the other man’s hand in a tight grip. “Mister Maximian, was it?” he asks, quickly releasing the other so that he could take a seat again and then he motioned for Leviticus to do the same.

“Please, call me Levi.” The other man sits down and removes his white hat as he does so, setting it down on his lap. As he does so, the captain can’t help but set his sights between the eyes of this other man, where a gemlike protrusion was formed upon his brow.

“A Garlean.” he states with narrowed eyes.

“Born and raised.” Levi continues to grin, and Odh continues to hate it.

Though his lip curls, eventually, Odh sighs. “Right then. Levi. Not to be rude, but I’m a busy man and I’ve things to take care of. What is your business with me?”

“Well. I suppose my business here is the same business you have plaguing every turn of your career.” Leviticus removes a Wanted poster that any Blade might recognize, but the Captain would know it best. “And he goes by the name of Roman Lawrence Wyld.”

🆃🅾 🅱🅴 🅲🅾🅽🆃🅸🅽🆄🅴🅳...

#stories #paint it black

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effieduan · 3 years

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Peskipiksi Pesternomi || Morgan & Effie (& Friends!)

TIMING: Present

LOCATION: Vulpine Voltage Repairs

PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems & @effieduan & pixies

SUMMARY: Morgan needs to get her phone fixed and stumbles upon an unsettling scene in Effie’s shop.

CONTENT: karen :///

“I’m just saying there’s grease on my screen.” The blonde said slowly, as if Effie couldn’t understand her. Truthfully, Effie didn’t understand her, but only because this woman was an idiot.

Effie let out a sigh, finally putting down the teeny tools she was using to replace some teenagers' cracked phone screen. She thought she was done with this particular customer -- she had even let herself hope she was done with this particularly customer. This woman’s laptop had a bad run in with a llama (apparently) and wanted it back in perfect condition. Effie obliged after she was screamed at for telling her that it would be cheaper to buy a new computer. Do I look poor? Perfect condition meant a deep cleaning of all the grime that was caked onto the poor machine.

“Ma’am,”Effie said flatly. “Your screen is just clean.”

“No! It feels slippery! Look!”

Effie watched, face blank as Karen dragged her finger across the smooth surface of the laptop screen, leaving behind a fingerprinted smudge.

“Yes,” Effie said. “Because it’s clean.” The door opened, her telltale jingling bells sounding through the small store front. Effie looked over Karen’s shoulder. “I’ll be right with you.”

“You most certainly will not!” The woman was outraged now, and Effie sucked in a deep breath, wishing that the other customer hadn’t walked in so she could just go lock herself in her workshop in the back. “You will take my laptop back and clean all this grease off it this instant! I didn’t pay all that money for you to be lazy - I wanted this in mint condition so i wouldn’t have to buy a new computer, and you’ve made it all...All… shiny! It’s slippery and I’ll drop it again and just have to come back - is this how you scam people? How dare you!”

Effie stared at the woman for a long moment, before stooping behind the counter and picking up a sign she only used on particularly irritating customers.

THE TECHNICIAN HAS THE RIGHT TO REFUSE SERVICE TO ANYONE. THIS MEANS YOU! GOOD-BYE!!!

After all the terrible things over the last two weeks, especially the thing with Erin and Betty, Morgan tried to kill her newly freed up time with Sundew and the pixies. Sometimes this led to impromptu spelling quizzes about the names of flowers. Sometimes this led to Sundew and Willowbud dropping her phone in the pool after trying to use it as a palanquin. Today was Actions Speak Louder Than Words, so the two tiny culprits joined her on the trip to the repair shop for ‘emotional support’ and to determine what they could do to make things better once Morgan found out just how bad the situation was. The rice trick hadn’t helped, so her hopes weren’t all that high.

Inside the shop, however, someone was having a much worse day.

“Her face looks like a balloon,” Willowbud giggled, hiding on Morgan’s shoulder.

“We should make it pop!” Sundew said, peeking out next to her. “And then make her get stuck on the ceiling so she can’t come down. Then she really really will be a balloon.”

“That’s cruel,” Morgan chastised softly, looking at the complaining woman. “Also, very conspicuous. And it’s...” She winced. “...human, in a bad way, to hurt someone just because you feel like it.”

“Does not,” Sundew hissed.

But the woman was being pretty human-bad too, and Morgan found herself wishing she’d put off teaching Sundew manners for another week. She had worked too many shitty jobs to have compassion for people who took off the edge off their existential powerlessness by yelling at service workers. Maybe this woman would look better stuck to the ceiling.

When the girl at the counter came to her, Morgan made a point of smiling extra bright as she brought out the phone. “I just have a uh...phone problem. Swimming pool accident. You can let me know if it’s not worth bringing her back to life.” She side eyed the woman, who was rapidly taking personal offense to everything Morgan said by the look on her face. “I can also wait a while, if you need to take care of other stuff.”

The sunny smile of the other customer was oddly disconcerting, though Effie knew it was just because the other was being such a bitch. “Your phone?” Effie managed to ask. She even managed to register her saying swimming pool accident - which happened to be her least favorite repairs, but at that moment she’d take anything. At least this woman looked like she would even get a thank you. “I’ll take a --”

Effie didn’t get to finish her sentence when her bitch of a customer interjected. “You most certainly will wait!” she snarled at Morgan. If Effie believed in God, she would pray for the strength not to strangle this woman. Thankfully, she did believe in the law, and murder was currently illegal, despite picturing this woman’s head exploding. “And you don’t want to get your shitty phone repaired here anyway, she’ll just make it greasy -- honestly, I want my money back, and I want my computer back to the way it was!”

“Smashed and hardly usable because of a llama accident?” Effie asked. “I’ve already informed you that I’ll no longer be servicing you. You can leave now. Uh --” Effie glanced over at Morgan. “Ma’am, if you’d like you can go towards the counter. This will only take a --”

“I demand you --”

“And I demand you shut up!” Effie had never been great at customer service and was born with the shortest fuse of all her sisters. “I’m running a business here and if you’re going to act like a child without a brain you can stick your head and your laptop into a pot of boiling water. Leave so I can look at this woman’s phone.”

Sundew and Willowbud thought this was hilarious. Morgan had to pretend to scratch her shoulder in order to keep them quiet. “If we’re the h-word for only supposing to make her a balloon, how many is she? Do you think she ate them?” Sundew said.

“At least four,” Morgan muttered.

This made them laugh harder. Morgan coughed to cover up the noise. “Excuse me, sorry,” she said, clearing her throat for good measure. “See, that’s what you do when you interrupt someone trying to peacefully go about their day. And then, if you’re trying to get someone to do you a favor and be nice to you, you get a little more specific and acknowledge they’re actually a person and not a text bot in a bodysuit.” Her voice was gentle, but her smile cut sharp. “Like: you look really distressed, ma’am. I can only imagine what horrible things must be happening for you right now, or how badly you’ve been hurt, that you feel like you need to be like this. But you really don’t. And this young woman has made herself really clear just now. So maybe if this is that urgent, you should try calling tomorrow.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna wo-oork,” Willowbud sing-songed.

Effie coughed, at least having the sense to hide her building laughter at her customers words. Oh, Morgan was so her new favorite customer, she would be getting a discount on her phone if she could fix the water damage. And if she couldn’t, maybe she’d toss in a free pair of headphones along with the cellphone recommendation pamphlet she’d give her. What confused her, though, was the soft sing-songing voice coming from the woman’s… hair?

Facetime, maybe? Or - wait, her phone was why she was here. Unless she had two? Effie was far more interested in the voice than she was her bitchy customer.

“I don’t think you have any involvement in this!” Karen snapped at Morgan, and Effie raised her eyes to the ceiling. Was this punishment for being an atheist? She made a mental note to tell that one to Eva the next time they spoke, she’d laugh.

“Actually --” Effie said, cutting off her tirade, “You are. She’s here to get a service done and you -- a person that will no longer be served -- are getting in the way of that. I guarantee she could have been out of here faster than this whole ordeal.” Effie paused, looking back at Morgan apologetically. “Not that I’m trying to get rid of you, of course.”

Karen stamped her foot. “I just want what I’ve paid for!! This is highway robbery! I’ll sue you!”

Sundew and Willowbud were doing that thing where they whispered and giggled and cackled at each other at the same time, and their already shrill voices were literally in Morgan’s ear and it was all she could do not to swat them away or laugh from how their wings tickled her neck. As they started scuttling down her sweater, she finally barked with laughter. “Sorry, sorry, uh. You’re very scary, ma’am. Truly.” Sundew’s feet were tickling her side and Morgan covered her mouth, snorting. “And uh, you really don’t have to worry about me,” she said to the girl at the counter. “I worked retail in Texas.”

As she spoke, the two pixies were writing on one of her post its and shoved their creation into Morgan’s hand. Morgan took one look at what they’d written (for writing in the dark, the penmanship was kind of impressive) and nearly choked on her voice. Maybe being on her own was making her lose her grip on her principles. Maybe she should stop spending so much time with pixies. Maybe a lot of things. But fuck it.

“Uh, but you know what, since all three of us seem to not want you here, why don’t you give me your name and contact info right here. I have some lawyer friends, and I’ll put you in touch. Sound fair?” She flipped the post-it as she handed it to the woman, obscuring the writing on the front.

Retail in Texas? Effie raised an eyebrow. “I… don’t think I want to know what that means,” she said. Truthfully she couldn’t think of a place she wanted to go to less than Texas. Except maybe Arizona… Or, really, anywhere in the south. Effie watched as Morgan produced a sticky note from out of nowhere. Who carried sticky notes on them like that? Effie wondered if Morgan really intended on passing Karen’s information onto a lawyer -- though even if she did, she was certain that this blonde woman would be laughed right out of a lawyers office. Greasy computer her left butt cheek.

“Ma’am, I suggest you do as she says,” Effie said. “Before I decide to call someone to escort you off my property.”

The blonde woman looked at her in astonishment, “Excuse me?” she asked like she couldn’t believe the words that just left Effie’s mouth.

Effie just reached into her back pocket, pulling out her phone and waving it threateningly. Of course, Effie would do no such thing. She was particularly fond of the police, nor did she feel like having more people crowded in her store. Even two was starting to make her a little nervous, if only because one of them was overtly hostile.

The blonde huffed in annoyance. “Well fine, then.” And she snatched the sticky note out of Morgan’s hand, looking Effie up and down as she did so, eyes lingering on the pair of bright blue gloves. “And I hope you choose a better wardrobe when I see you in court!!”

As soon as the woman signed the note, Sundew and Willowbud flew out of Morgan’s bag, tiny hands drawn into finger-guns. “Stick 'em up!” Sundew cried. “This here is a robbery! And you owe us big time!”

“Yeah!” Willowbud piped. “Highway robbery, missy!”

Sundew cackled. “Pew, pew!” Two bullets the size of melons shot out from her tiny fingers and zoomed straight for the woman’s face. She screamed, shielding herself, but on supposed impact, the bullets made a farting noise and erupted into a spray of rainbow fireworks.

“Sundew!” Morgan squeaked. In retrospect, she should have seen this coming. They had written When u rob me I will give all my money $$. Of course they would want to do the hold up themselves, supernatural secrecy be damned. She looked over to the girl at the counter, smiling through her panic. Please don’t freak out, please don’t freak out, please don’t freak out.

The woman, meanwhile, was wriggling in place as her arms forced themselves into her own purse for her wallet. Out came the credit cards, debit cards, store cards, wadded up bills, loose change, even a checkbook. Morgan didn’t even know people still carried checkbooks. The more the woman fought, the more her face turned a little purple, and for a second Morgan worried that she might actually burst like a human gore balloon.

As Sundew and Willowbud fluttered to the counter to surf and dance on their spoils, Morgan’s look at the girl at the counter turned desperate. “Those...drone robots the kids are making sure….look realistic, huh? I can...uh...make them give those back, if you want. Because, you know, the drones. Probably have...microphone...things. To listen with.”

Effie stared in utter disbelief. The little things with wings were cackling and shooting finger guns while this woman was making it rain the contents of her purse on the ground. Suddenly, the singsongy voice coming out of this other woman’s hair was making sense. Effie looked at her panicked smile and looked back at Karen, who was… Well, now she wasn’t very happy.

“Drones,” Effie repeated, eyeing the dancing creatures doubtfully. Drones her ass. Still, the look on the bitch’s face was really something to look at, and Effie let out a low laugh, shaking her head. “Drones! Right. Drones!” Effie was not the best actor in the world, but she was trying her best. “Well, it seems like maybe we should give the lady back her checkbook and cards. And I’ll take this --” Effie slide a wadded up ten dollar bill towards the little creatures, “-- as a fee for disturbing the peace. For the … Children, of course.”

“Maybe we should make her give up the rest!” Sundew said. She flew up to the woman, flitting this way and that, closer to her eyes. “What do you think, human? Do you think anything? Do you? Do you? Do you? Do you? Do you? DO YOU?” Sundew flicked her on the forehead. “Should we keep playing robber? Or maybe we should play tie ‘em to the train tracks instead.”

The woman, still a little purple and now definitely terrified for her sanity, took out a roll of bills from her cleavage and threw it on the ground. Finally freed from the request, she stumbled back and left the shop, too horrified to scream.

Morgan deflated, bending down to pick up the most conspicuous items off the floor and push them over the counter. “You should definitely take the checkbook and plastic,” she mumbled. “They’ve learned to type, and I really don’t want to learn what their taste in online shopping is.” She put her head over her arms and stayed there, looking sidelong at the girl. Sundew and Willowbud were too pleased with themselves to care much. Like many fae, they assigned value by shininess and aesthetic more than anything else. For now, at least. “You’re taking all of this really well. Tiny ‘drones’ flying out of a woman’s purse the middle of your store, harassing your customer, playing--” she looked back at them and shook her head, despairing. “I don’t even want to know. But, I appreciate it, and if you can handle mailing that harpy of a woman her sensitive stuff back, I can compensate you extra for the...mess.”

The woman fled from the shop, forgetting all about her greasy laptop and all of her personal belongings now scattered about the store. Effie stared after her in somewhat impressed astonishment. She looked at the woman bending to pick up the checkbook and plastic, and nodded as she grabbed it and the computer, automatically going to the safe. “I can ship it out tonight,” she said simply with a shrug. “She left her address on file, and I think her license is somewhere in that mess too.”

“Uh --” Effie looked down at the two little creatures. “Well, uh…” Actually, it was probably a good idea to check in to see how she actually felt about the existence of … these things. Fae. Had to be. Her grandmother’s warnings echoed in her head along with the insistence that she eat more dinner. “I’ve been around,” was all she said. “And I don’t particularly… ask questions unless I need to know.” It was simpler that way, anyway, and it kept people at arm's length, which is what she liked.

She stooped under the counter and pulled out paperwork -- the ones to start a ticket. “Your phone’s been waterlogged, right? Just fill this stuff out for me and I’ll take a look to see if there’s anything I can do. And you two…” she looked down at the two creatures. She looked back at Morgan. “Uh. I have candy??”

Morgan’s tired face brightened with relief. Slowly, she smiled. “Wow. I think that might actually be a first. I’m guessing that’s how you and this place are still standing.” She grabbed the paperwork and filled it out, writing a little ‘no promises’ in the corner, punctuated with a smiley face as a warning.

At the mention of candy, Morgan checked back in on the two pixies, who paused in their frolicking to proclaim, “We accept your tribute!” before going back to making the dollar bills roll like a mini ocean. “You really do know what you’re doing. I had to ask an expert to figure that one out,” she marvelled, sliding the pad over. “I know these aren’t the most auspicious circumstances, but my name is Morgan Beck and you just became my new favorite person in town.”

#wickedswriting #para #para morgan #morgan

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 6 months

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"One Is Held In Attempted Chatham Jail Delivery," Windsor Star. October 28, 1943. Page 3 & 6. --- D. J. Payne Of Windsor Is Arrested ---- Governor Nabs Man as He Tries to Climb Wall and Fires Upon Waiting Car ---- From Chatham Bureau of The Windsor Star CHATHAM, Ont., Oct. 28. - What is believed to have been an attempt to break into the Kent County jail here and release one or more prisoners from the cells was broken up about 11:15 last night by Phillip Daigneau, governor of the jail, who caught Danny James Payne, of Windsor, allegedly climbing over the jail wall, and fired several shots at a waiting car which then sped away in the darkness toward Windsor.

GIVEN REMAND Payne was remanded without plea until next Wednesday by Magistrate Ivan B. Craig in Chatham police court this morning on a charge that he "did assist Allen Baldwin and Franklin Smith in an attempted escape from lawful custody in Kent county jail."

Baldwin is under sentence of four years on a charge of receiving stolen tires and along with Smith is awaiting trial for the $34,000 armed robbery of the Royal Bank at Wheatley. Ont., on September 10. They were committed for trial recently along with Leo Dubroy, Peter Delvin and Vernard Gates who have been released on bail.

Jail Governor Daigneau stated that he fired several shots at the fleeing car and believes he hit it at least once. He described the car as a light green 1940 or 1941 Ford coach or sedan and said the first part of the licence read 6-J.

HIGHWAYS WATCHED Ontario provincial police all through Kent and Essex counties were immediately warned and the highways between Chatham and Windsor fully patrolled.

The charge against Payne, who gave his address as 920 Ouellette avenue, was laid by Crown Attorney A. Douglas Bell, K.C.

Indication that Kent jail officials had feared some attempt might be made to free Baldwin and Smith was seen in the report that extra guards had been put on.

Jail Governor Daigneau was outside the jail when he saw someone trying to scale the 25-foot stone wall with a rope. It is believed there were five men but the others fled in the car while Daigneau captured Payne. Some neighbors who heard the shooting believe that the men in the car returned the fire.

MR. DAIGNEAU'S STORY "We had been watching everything here very closely," Mr. Daigneau told The Star today. "Last night shortly after 11 when I came out of my house adjoining the jail to make my rounds, I noticed two parked cars. Recognizing one of them, I walked toward it but just as I did it pulled away.

"I yelled at the driver to stop but he didn't so I fired at the tires as it turned off Stanley avenue onto Prince street. I again fired at the tires as it sped along Prince. I didn't fire higher because I didn't know who was in the car.

"I then ran back and played my flashlight on the walls of the jail and told the night turnkey to advise the police that this particular car was in town.

SAW MAN ON WALL "I rushed back to the Seventh street side of the jail and when I put my light on the wall I saw a man huddled over the top of the wall, sort of bending over.

"I fired one shot close to him to frighten him and then told him to put his hands up and come down with his back toward me. I told him to drop and then turn and face me. I kept my light on him and my gun ready and then slowly backed toward Stanley avenue and shouted for help."

PAYNE SEARCHE DR. D. Scott, of the Bank of Commerce, N. H. Plomley, insurance agent and Major William Bexton of the Salvation Army, who live close to the jail responded and Mr. Plomley searched Payne for weapons.

Detective Jack Harrington and Constable William Craven of Chatham police arrived then, followed by Provincial Constables A. R. Peters and John Bain.

After Payne was taken in the police cruiser to the city police cells, Governor Daigneau and the police searched the jail yard but found no one else.

STRONG ROPE LADDER Mr. Daigneau said that preparations for the attempted jail break apparently had been well made because a strong rope ladder with a hook on the end of it was thrown to the top of the wall from the outside and then dropped from the top to the yard below.

He said Payne had a stick with him which apparently had been used to try and pass weapons through to prisoners. Payne did not get to a window, he said.Questioned by The Star, Mr. Daigneau would not say if any weapons had been found on Payne, in the jail yard or in the jail.

He said no shots had been fired at him from those in the fleeing car.

There had been no tip-off but jail officials have been especially vigilant in the past few weeks, it was reported.

Mr. Daigneau was high in his praise of city and provincial police for their prompt arrival on the scene.

#wheatley ontario #chatham #windsor #bank robbery #bank robbers #professional criminals #attempted escape #jailbreak #jailbreakers #county jail #tire theft #stolen tires #out on bail #remand prisoners #canada during world war 2 #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada

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omgkatsudonplease · 3 years

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[ficlet, bagginshield] shock and delight, pt 1 (bridgerton au)

The banks of the Brandywine River are packed with strolling couples on the day of the promenade, their chaperones following shortly behind. Thorin and the Fundinson brothers arrive exactly on time, Thorin carrying a bottle of Old Winyards. According to the sommelier in the shop at Bucklebury, this particular bottle was their last vintage one.

Bilbo and his chaperone Mr Greyhame show up a couple minutes late, the Hobbit fretting and dabbing at his brows with a monogrammed handkerchief. “I’m so terribly sorry for my lateness,” he flusters, hopping on one foot to the other like a nervous rabbit as he peers up at Thorin with a sheepish grin. “I forgot my pocket-handkerchief and had to go back for it.”

Thorin is caught between the absolute adorableness of Bilbo’s contrite pout and the absolute absurdity of the reason for his tardiness.

“You are forgiven,” he declares instead. Bilbo’s pout smooths into a heart-melting smile.

The two of them begin to head down the path alongside the river, their pace leisurely. Other promenaders pass them by, as well as several open carriages pulled by unprotesting ponies. Thorin finds his gaze oddly drawn to the way the spring sunlight seems to burnish Bilbo’s curls into gold. Probably where Lord Stormcrow got the Golden Hare moniker, he thinks, before forcibly looking away towards a young Hobbit family having a picnic by the river.

It’s a picture-perfect image of marital bliss. Thorin supposes something like that is what Bilbo is looking for, which Thorin himself obviously could not provide. Though he has yet to hear of any pushback against what must be an odd coupling by both Dwarvish and Hobbit standards, he is sure opposition will make itself known eventually. A marriage of true minds often lacks the productivity factor of a standard marriage, something which would be keenly felt in the family of a gentleman as distinguished as Bilbo Baggins’s.

He, on the other hand, has already named his sister-children as his heirs. So it didn’t matter whether or not he married at all, nor did it matter whether or not his One (wherever they may be) possessed the physical apparatus or mental inclination for childbearing.

“I have a question,” says Bilbo after a moment, breaking through Thorin’s thoughts like sunlight through stormclouds. “How do you know Gandalf? He’s an old family friend of mine, and apparently my cousin Fortinbras was the one who suggested he watch over me this season, but I don’t know how he would know you.” He looks thoughtful, hazel eyes peering inquisitively into Thorin’s face.

In spite of himself, Thorin feels exposed, almost vulnerable.

“I suppose Gandalf does have a lot of fingers in a lot of pies, though,” muses Bilbo after a moment, before laughing and shrugging it off. “So? How do you know Gandalf?”

“To use your phrasing, Mr Greyhame has a finger in Erebor’s pie,” replies Thorin simply, not wanting to discuss how, years upon years ago, the Wizard had found his father in the depths of the Greenwood lost in enchantments and his own memories. King Thráin had, as the story went, finally succumbed to his grief about the deaths of his father and son, and had gotten lost in the Greenwood on his way to Azanulbizar to mourn them.

He half suspects that telling Bilbo all of that would just make the poor Hobbit run off screaming in the opposite direction. So instead he bites his tongue, folding his hands behind his back.

“I see,” says Bilbo, fiddling nervously with one of his cuff-links. “I’ve never been to Erebor. I’ve barely even left the Shire as-is.”

Thorin arches an eyebrow, remembering the abundance of maps and walking-sticks in Bag End the first time he’d gone over for dinner. The smial, though grand in size and luxurious in room variety, didn’t have the same cold ostentation as the mansions of Dwarves or Men. It felt homey, well-loved. A testament to lives well-lived.

No wonder Bilbo was so picky about the search for his One. If Thorin were not king, he would have wanted his halls just as cosy and warm, and he would have wanted to share it with only those who would brighten its nooks and crannies.

“You certainly give the appearance of being well-travelled,” he says neutrally, still thinking of the maps and walking-sticks.

“Within the Shire,” demurs Bilbo. “I have had to go to Annúminas on business, of course, and once I went to Fornost with my parents on holiday, but Hobbits as a rule try to stick within the four farthings of the Shire. After all, why go out to see the rest of the world when the world comes to us every year?”

His last question is both rhetorical and bitter. Thorin’s heart aches a little just hearing it.

“So it is a matter of respectability?” he wonders wryly. Bilbo raises an eyebrow, so Thorin explains. “There is not much stopping you from running out of your front door and into the Blue, after all.”

Bilbo chuckles ruefully. “No,” he agrees. “But every time the side of me that craves adventures begins to make plans, the other side of me protests mightily, saying I’ll miss my books and my armchair and having six regular meals a day.”

Thorin has, indeed, noticed that restaurants and tea shops in the Shire have a more constant cycle of meals than anywhere else in Middle-earth. He’s honestly not complaining.

“Speaking of meals,” he says, nodding towards the basket that Mr Greyhame is carrying, “I brought Old Winyards. Shall we find somewhere to sit?”

Bilbo checks his pocket-watch. “It’s halfway between elevensies and luncheon,” he remarks.

“Yes,” says Thorin. “Consider it ‘lunchensies’.”

Bilbo bursts out in laughter at that, a bright joyful sound that rings through Thorin like one of the golden bells of Dale. His own stomach flutters a bit, and it takes all of his self-control to simply gesture for Balin and Dwalin to come help them set up their picnic on the banks of the Brandywine River.

Lunchensies is a success. Bilbo immediately takes a liking to Balin the moment they all sit down on the blanket together, happily chatting with him about books and history in between bites of his sandwich. Thorin watches them, unable to stop the smile on his face as he watches the way his old friend brightens under the Hobbit’s genuine inquisitiveness.

“Yes, the road between here and Erebor was not as arduous as it used to be,” Balin is saying. “There is, of course, the stray highway robbery within Orc territory, but rumour has it that after the Shadow was broken at the end of the last Age, the majority of the Enemy’s armies have fallen out of its thrall and prefer to keep to themselves within the Mountains.”

“Occupying the ancestral halls of Khazad-dûm,” growls Dwalin. Thorin, too, feels the cold resentment deep in his stomach, but he tempers it by watching Bilbo chew thoughtfully at his sandwich, his nose twitching like a rabbit’s.

“While Durin’s Bane continues to live, Khazad-dûm cannot be retaken,” he reminds Dwalin.

“If it continues to live,” muses Balin, before hastily switching the topic. “On the other hand, we are fortunate not to have awoken anything similar within Erebor. Though we did almost lose it to the firedrake Smaug.”

Thorin remembers the flames, remembers the lives lost to the dragon. The tragedy had seemed insurmountable at the time, but now he supposes rebuilding a Kingdom within the ashes of dragonfire was not as bad as being forced to flee for a new home like what had happened to his ancestors in Khazad-dûm.

“Almost?” echoes Bilbo, his eyes wide. Dwalin hands him and Thorin both glasses of the Old Winyards. Mr Greyhame, too, is helping himself to a liberal portion of the wine.

“The Lady Mika, wife of the Lord of Dale, requited her husband’s death upon the dragon by shooting him with a black arrow,” explains Thorin as he pops a strawberry into his mouth. The fruit’s juices spill over his fingers; he hastily licks it off before wiping his fingers with the handkerchief.

Bilbo’s cheeks are dusted light pink when Thorin looks up again, and Thorin can feel his own cheeks heating in response.

“Well,” flounders the Hobbit, “that must have been terrible to go through. We haven’t had anything quite like that in the Shire, save for long and fell winters and the odd plague outbreak. But enough talk of dark and grim things! What is your favourite part of Erebor?”

The question throws Thorin for a moment. “Everything,” he says, but Bilbo raises a doubtful eyebrow at that. “All of Erebor is connected,” explains Thorin. “From the mines to the forges to the crafting halls, every part serves the whole.”

“Cogs in a machine,” muses Bilbo. “But what about a location? If you’ve grown up there all your life, surely you must have a favourite place. Secret hideouts from childhood, all of that.”

Thorin considers the question again, and this time the answer comes almost as if he had always meant to say it: “My mother’s garden,” he replies. “She kept a well-tended terrace beside the Royal apartments. We still take care of it, of course, and in the spring the cherry and apple blossoms blanket the grass like petalled snow.”

Bilbo’s expression lights up. “That sounds incredible,” he says.

“In the summer, the entire terrace is flooded with fireflies. I remember thinking once as a child that they were stars come down to play with us.”

Bilbo’s hands tighten against the stem of his wineglass. “I should very much like to see that,” he says quietly. Thorin smiles, before noticing the knowing glint in their companions’ eyes.

He glares at them until they subside.

#the hobbit #bagginshield #tolkien #lily's dabbles #bridgerton au

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redhoodedwolf · 4 years

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A Week-ish of Sterek Fics

Hello all! So I recently accidentally fell back into my AO3 bookmarks and have fallen down a rabbit (fox? eh?) hole that leaves me entirely unproductive and sleep deprived but full of feels, so I thought I’d share all of the fics that I’ve rerereread thus far in the last week (it’s over 75 guys) (since friday 😬). Each has the fic name and description, length, and year pub/finished because it makes me feel old. Also all of these are complete because I am weak and cannot handle WIPs.

Note: I’m not adding any tags to the descriptions, so make sure to read the tags and ratings on each fic first before reading!!!

Teaching Derek How to Text (and Other Shenanigans) by neilwrites | 9K | 2018

yo derek Who’s dying

---

I see your 'Derek doesn't have a phone' line and raise you 'Derek has a phone, he and Stiles text all the fucking time.'

The Hoodie by ladiekatie | 1.7K | 2017

“You shouldn’t be able to see me. What are you?” The guy in the hoodie says, the ball of energy grows hotter under Derek’s chin.

or the one where Derek is just trying to talk to the guy at the back of the subway.

Nothing You Could Say by SylvieW | 13K | 2016

Stiles’ second year of college is not working out as he planned. He rarely sees Scott, his job is exhausting, and to get home after his shift, he has to walk at three in the morning. Nearly getting mugged is the icing on the cake, but luckily a gruff stranger is there to rescue him. But now Stiles can’t seem to shake the feeling that he’s not alone in the dark.

Old Traditions, Werewolf Edition by Footloose | 3.6K | 2014

Stiles does not work his Omega ass off to attract frat boy Alphas. Absolutely not. He's at college to get his degree. If he's crushing on an Alpha who never crosses the lines of propriety, well, no one needs to know, right?

Stiles Stilinski, Boyfriend Extraordinaire by MereLoup | 14K | 2016

“Beacon County Sheriff's Department, this is deputy Mahealani speaking.”

“Oh thank god!”

“Stiles?”

“I, uh, I need some advice.”

“Advice?”

“Yeah. So, hypothetically, say you met your boyfriend’s mother and sister for the first time ever. Completely by accident. In the grocery store. And they convinced you to help them make a dinner to surprise aforementioned boyfriend when he got home after work. What would you do?”

Danny paused, and then, “Stiles, you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“That’s not the point! And I said hypothetically.”

“Stiles...what are you doing right now?”

***

Stiles never imagined he’d be in Derek’s kitchen cooking a surprise dinner with Derek’s family while they waited for Derek to get home from work.

Partly because their visit was a complete surprise.

But mostly because Stiles didn’t have a boyfriend.

Or even know who Derek was.

But he’d already come this far and Papa didn’t raise no quitter!

third time's the charm by stilinski | 4.9K | 2016

Sure, Stiles has a mark on his chest that belies the depth of his feelings, but it's not something anyone can see unless he decides to show it, or unless werewolves suddenly have x-ray vision.

Which—worrying. And probably-definitely-likely a possibility – if it was to manifest anywhere, Beacon Hills would be top of the list.

Stiles almost turns around there and then to ask Scott how his visual acuity is but is stopped by the teenager at the register finally looking up long enough to spot Derek. Stiles watches her mouth fall open and her expression—studiously blank but with a faint flush rising in her cheeks—is one Stiles knows far too well, particularly when faced with Derek in all his snug-fitting-jeans, v-neck-wearing, canvas-jacketed glory.

Stiles is pretty sure he invented that expression.

Ukochany by VincentMeoblinn| 34K | 2016

Derek comes home to find a mail order husband and two amused betas waiting for him. When he realizes their prank was far from harmless he ends up saddled with a husband who barely speaks English but insists Derek is the love of his life. He's also determined to win him over.

only if for a night by stilinskisparkles | 3.2K | 2016

“I’m Stiles,” he says breathlessly.

“Derek.”

“Derek, hi, do you—”

Derek doesn’t let him finish, kisses the words right out of his mouth.

Hypothetically by alisvolatpropiis | 6.6K | 2015

Stiles holds his hand up to shield his eyes from the sinking sun, its orange-yellow light reflected infinitely across the vast, calm ocean. As utterly stunning as the sunset over the Pacific is, especially while floating leisurely on a surfboard a few hundred feet from shore, it’s a mere backdrop that pales in comparison to who he’s looking at.

Derek Hale, whose eyes are their own oceans that Stiles feels like he’s been floating on since the first time they met. The older man’s eyes are as ever-changing and colorful as the sea they’ve spent the day on, a palette of greens and blues filigreed with gold around the pupils. And if that weren’t enough, the rest of Derek is also transcendentally exquisite: high, arching cheekbones and a chiseled jaw, although that particular perfection is a bit obscured these days by his ever-thickening beard, night-black like his hair, nearly shoulder-length but almost always knotted in a messy bun at the crown of his head.

sincerely, derek by stilinskisparkles | 8.1K | 2016

September, 2009

Hi Stiles, it’s Derek. Derek Hale, from space camp. I’m writing this in English because my teacher Ms Grady said I had to write about my summer, but I spent my summer with you, so I decided to write to you, instead.

Please write back. Love from Derek.

Pancakes and Murder by Amethyst Shard (AmethystShard) | 14K | 2012

Stiles' life has been a roller-coaster filled with awesome highs and terrifying drops ever since his best friend Scott got bit by a werewolf. The ride hits a bump when a dead body turns up at the Hale house (again) and Derek's only alibi is Stiles. Which would be fine, except that Stiles' dad is the sheriff and has no idea his son has been hanging out with the former fugitive. Awkward.

The Witching Hour by MellytheHun | 8.2K | 2016

The radio host AU no one ever asked for but I have written anyway because sometimes when DJ’s play several sad songs in a row, I worry about their mental health and then this AU was born

Derek Hale, The Hero Beacon Hills Needs (Series) by MellytheHun | 11K | 4 Works | 2016

This series started with this Tumblr prompt, "it’s the middle of the night and i’m walking home alone in the dark and there’s this guy following me and he’s starting to gain on me and i found this phone booth with a lock on the door and i tried to call my best friend but my hands were shaking so badly i accidentally dialed the wrong number and i don’t even know you but help me” au

Stiles is walking home when he's stalked by a dangerous stranger and an even more dangerous stranger comes to his rescue.

Fly a Little Faster by mirrorkill | 32K | 2013

Everyone knows when you go back in time, you shouldn't step on an ant, just in case you accidentally kill your own grandparent or something. But what happens when you go back in time and, uh, accidentally interrupt the one event that apparently made the Grumpiest Alpha in Town into a ball of mindless manpain?

Well, if Marty McFly can do it, so can Stiles Stilinski. All he has to do is get Derek and Paige to fall in love before he gets pulled back to his own time. And before he makes anything worse. That's easy as pie, right? Right?

You are the Moon by skoosiepants | 10K | 2012

Stuff Stiles doesn’t like to deal with first thing: hot, moist dog breath in his face, a cuddly werewolf creepifying his perfectly normal morning wood with shades of bestiality, and his dad holding his service revolver up against the skull of his bedmate, never mind the fact that his bedmate could possibly be a vicious unhinged rogue omega.

Baby, you should stick around by ElisAttack | 9.5K | 2016

Derek's driving along a stretch of highway when an unusual sight makes him slow down, the engine of his old pickup rattling in protest.

There's a kid standing by the side of the road.

It's the middle of nowhere, the goddamn apocalypse, and this kid is standing by the side of the road with his thumb pointed skyward. Like he's playing at being a hitchhiker.

Or the one where Stiles thinks he's all alone in a post-apocalyptic world, until he meets Derek.

Don’t Be Anything But Okay by skoosiepants | 4.8K | 2016

“Oh my god.”

Ben pops open the car door and says, “Please don’t embarrass me, Dad.”

Stiles flaps a hand, still staring at the magnificent sight before him. There are glistening arm muscles and a sweaty tank top and then the vision bends over and holy god. He has to look away; it’s too much to take in all at once, he might swoon.

OR-

Stiles has a teenager and Derek has a plant nursery.

covalent bonds (Series) by HalfFizzbin | 9.2K | 3 Works | 2015

Derek's a hot nerd. Stiles is a nerdy jock. A LOVE STORY FOR THE AGES.

Disappear Here by AgnesBlue | 28K | 2016

Stiles was quiet. “What?” Derek said again. “My first heat is coming up soon,” Stiles said at last. Derek closed his eyes, disinterested. He knew where Stiles was going with this. “I was thinking…hoping, really,” Stiles said. “Maybe you could stay with me during that time.”

AU in which wounded in a fire that killed off his entire family, Derek wants nothing more than to be left alone as he finishes off his senior year in high school. That all changes when omega Stiles Stilinski asks him to help him through his first heat.

Money Isn't Everything by TroubleIWant | 6.3K | 2015

Stiles slurps at the dregs of his iced hazelnut latté, pretending he doesn’t need a refill just yet. Supporting your local business is great and all, but Isaac charging $5 for a coffee with syrup is highway robbery. He’s already cut his expenses down to the bare minimum, and splurging for foofy drinks is not in the budget. Except that he can’t really help himself: black coffee is plain gross. Maybe I should plan on marrying rich, he thinks darkly.

Or,

Stiles has a huge crush on the super-hot guy he always sees at Isaac's coffee shop, but when he finds out that they guy's an unemployed orphan he has to decide if the difference in their financial situations is a deal-breaker, or just a bump on the path to true love.

So Shed Your Skin and Lets Get Started by halfhardtorock | 21K | 2014

He's sixteen and in the woods on the wrong side of the town-line and he's so fucking fucked.

He knows he's not supposed to run, they teach that to you in preschool (don't run from a Were, back away slowly and walk with care), but they never told you how it would feel, standing alone in the dark with your heart beating in your throat as those glowing eyes tracked you from the shadows.

you and me (and my best friend) by trilliastra | 1.5K | 2016

“Come on, I shouldn’t be the only one having orgasms. Let me help you out.”

“Uh –” someone clears their throat and Derek jumps, startled, hits his elbow on the wall and curses, “am I interrupting something?” Stiles asks, cheeks red.

Derek looks up, sighing. Of all the people working in this damn school, Stiles had to be the one to catch him and Erica talking about sex. It’s just Derek’s luck. He spills juice on his pants? Stiles walks into the classroom; Laura starts yelling at him about something that happened when they were kids? Stiles is right behind them, waiting for his coffee; Boyd accidentally throws a ball at his face? Stiles is at the E.R. when Derek gets there with a swollen face and a broken nose.

The universe hates him.

Easy Alpha by interropunct | 4.6K | 2012

Easy A/Teen Wolf AU. Wherein, Derek Hale is the high school hussy, Jackson and Scott really need to learn to use their inside voices. And, contrary to popular belief, everyone is still a virgin.

Body Language by LadyMerlin | 2.3K | 2016

In an alternate universe, soulmates exist, and they can communicate with each other by writing on their own skin.

The catch? No one knows their soulmates' name. It could literally be anyone under the sun, and Stiles just doesn't have that kind of patience.

chantes une nouvelle chanson pour moi by pr1nc3ssp34ch (dallisons) | 13K | 2013

Stiles Stilinski has been at Hogwarts since his first year, okay. That's six years of experience. He knows how Hogwarts works, how it operates. He's not quite an expert or anything, but he's pretty damn sure he knows this school.

So why the hell have they waited like a million years to start taking transfer students?

And why is he the only one who can't get a French date?

C’était Salement Romantique by Swing Set in December (swing_set13) | 2.2K | 2015

The Triwizard tournament is really about fostering wizarding relations. Ask anyone. Just not Stiles, he’s busy French kissing Derek.

Hogwarts really should teach some linguistic classes.

The Long Way Home by MyChemicalRachel | 19K | 2016

Stiles didn’t plan to sleep with his best friend’s dad. It just kind of happened. And then it happened again. And again. And again…

All that once was, remains. by countrygirlsfun | 8.8K | 2016

Life is only a long list of constants.

Being a part of a royal family, being a prince, has been a constant in Derek Hale’s life since he was born and swaddled in silk cloths.

Wherein Derek finds himself in love with a stable boy who is more than he seems.

Driver's Education by arrowofcarnations | 9.2K | 2014

This is the moment he realizes he can never have Derek Hale – that he was stupid to ever think he could. Maybe their moms made them hang out when they were little and maybe they’ve managed to get along these past few weeks, but they’re too different. Derek’s cool, he plays a million sports, he drives a Camaro, he’s friends with Jackson. Stiles doesn’t fit into the equation and he never will.

Letters by ericaismeg | 8.9K | 2014

“Stiles, this is getting ridiculous. Can you please do something about it?” Lydia demands. “Do anything. I don’t care. Go up and kiss him, ask him to prom this year, write him secret admirer love letters, whatever. Just do something.”

***

OR: The one where Lydia sets up an email account for Stiles to "confess his love" for Derek. And as fate would have it, they also end up becoming friends in person at the same time.

We're One of a Kind (Like Dip Da Dip Da Dip Do Whap De Dobby Do) by orphan_account | 3.5K | 2012

Derek is your classic greaser—with a leather jacket, a hot rod, a hot bike, and a duck butt. Genim “Stiles” Stilinski a total fream—he’s too cool to be a poindexter but he’s so far from a cat that Derek almost feels bad for him. All that’s missing in this love story is some oddly perfectly timed musical numbers.

do it for our country by HalfFizzbin | 936 | 2012

In which Derek tries to play it cool but Stiles is totally hep to his jive.

Fast Times At Clairemont High by MonsieurBlueSky (MyChemicalRachel) | 6.9K | 2016

Stiles is stoked when he's chosen for an undercover operation to take down a drug ring. He's less stoked when he discovers that he'll be posing as a seventeen year old student at the High School where Derek teaches.

It's Too Early For This by thepsychicclam | 4.9K | 2016

Derek loves his job at the coffee shop, especially because Stiles comes in for coffee before early Saturday morning lacrosse practices. The problem is that Derek is too shy to do anything about his crush, and the situation is not helped by the rivalry between the basketball and lacrosse teams.

A Tentative Truce by Inell | 8.5K | 2016

Stiles and Derek have a long standing rivalry that has extended beyond the Beacon Hills High School theater department to every other area of their high school lives. With the announcement of the winter production, their competitiveness has to be set to the side so the musical can be successful. With a tentative truce in place, Stiles unable to ignore his growing infatuation for his co-star.

we keep living anyway by bistiles (alis) | 10K | 2015

“Oh, damn, my manners. What an example I’m setting, am I right? I’m Stiles Stilinski, but call me Stiles, please,” Stilinski extended his hand for Derek to shake, and Derek took it, feeling the solid grip and the long fingers around his own hand. For some reason, he blushed on the spot.

“Derek. Derek Hale. Call me just Derek,” He answered, still holding Stiles’ hand in his.

By the look on Stiles’ face, he felt much the same as what Derek was feeling, whatever that unnamed reaction was.

“And this little barnacle attached to me,” Stiles continued, letting go of Derek and flushing pink, “is Leigh.”

Stiles is struggling to raise his only child all alone, while dealing with financial problems, a new job, and Adrian Harris, the worst boss in the world.

But then he meets Derek Hale, a dreamy co-workers, and what is a terrible situation becomes considerably less grim, when he has Derek by his side.

Don't Judge a Derek By His Cover by captaintinymite (augopher) | 4.5K | 2015

Stiles doesn't care about the rumors surrounding Beacon Hills High School's resident bad boy, Derek Hale. In fact, he thinks the rumors are total crap. Of course, being secretly in love with someone has a way of clouding one's judgment.

However, he knew for a fact that Derek liked books. So when the two paired up for a final English project, he was excited (but also a little terrified).

But you know what they say...never judge a book by its cover. The same goes for people.

sometimes fate is like a small snowstorm by thepsychicclam | 8.1K | 2014

In a coffee shop two days before Christmas, Derek meets Stiles. Despite neither of them being interested in relationships, they spend an unforgettable evening together, but then part ways. During the following years, Stiles competes in the Olympics, Derek tours the world - and neither of them forget. Then twelve years later, two days before Christmas, Derek finds Stiles in that same coffee shop.

aka a kinda sorta serendipity au

should the pillars of memory topple out of my reach by bleep0bleep | 4.3K | 2015

If Stiles didn’t know any better he’d say that look in Derek's eyes is adoring, but he does know better, and also amnesiac Derek thinks they’re married. Which is the only fact he hasn’t questioned so far, which is the weirdest thing.

Just High School by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 4.5K | 2015

Derek and Stiles have been dating for some time.

The only thing is, nobody else really knows.

Tis The Season Baristas Fear The Most by stilinskisparkles | 5.4K | 2012

Scott is hands down the worst barista Derek has ever hired. But it's Christmas and apparently that means something to some people.

Mind Reading Can Be Such a Pain in the A** (Series) by Fanhag102 | 21K | 2 Works | 2015

Derek Hale can read minds. If he could have chosen a mutant power for himself instead of being given one by random, genetic happenstance it's safe to say mind-reading would not have been his 1st, 2nd, or even 96th choice.

Maybe if he'd gotten the power of invisibility he wouldn't be sitting in a senior Economics class next to a hyperactive kid with a buzz cut who won’t stop thinking about dicks.

A Criminal and His Lucky Charm by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 5.9K | 2015

Please forgive yourself.

For what?

For allowing yourself to let someone in. For letting me love you. I didn’t deserve it, but that wasn’t your fault. Derek, please, just do it. Please— please don’t drag this out.

Derek Hale valued Stiles above everyone—everything. And Stiles betrayed that. In the end, he figured if he had to die, dying in Derek’s arms wasn’t so bad. He could at least have that.

the things you said when we were the happiest we’ve ever been by foxerica (ericaismeg) | 4.8K | 2015

Derek and Stiles meet again at their high school reunion.

From Dirty Paws by Surreal | 9.9K | 2014

Stiles finds a wolf in the woods. Well, it's more like the wolf finds him. Either way, he's happy to have a new friend in his otherwise boring social circle.

flawless by bibliosexual | 4.9K | 2015

“I know you and I are, like, werewolf-married, but dude, if I ever met Lydia Martin in person . . . All bets are off, is all I'm saying."

It's not like Stiles really means it (does he?), but it still makes Derek’s hands clench into claws on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, if," he says, and keeps his eyes on the road.

Those Hidden Places by Mimiminaj | 18K | 2015

He doesn’t belong here.

It’s the first thought that crosses Derek’s mind as he watches the new inmates spill into the cafeteria. The kid stays close to the wall, eyes scanning all the exits and skimming over the tables. If he’s trying to get a barring for his surroundings he’s doing a shit job of it, something made completely evident as Lewis shoulders him from behind and the kid almost jumps to flatten himself against the wall.

Stiles is the new inmate at Derek's prison. He really didn't expect to fall in love with the mouthy little brat.

Baseball Pants by thatfamoushappyending (betsytheoven) | 2.8K | 2015

Scott shows Stiles a picture of the new pitcher for the Dodgers, and Stiles is suddenly an avid Dodgers fan.

While You Were(n't Quite) Sleeping by mikkimouse | 13K | 2015

Scott’s mom, Melissa, had given Stiles the basics on Derek’s condition when he’d first come over here a month ago. Derek had been here six years, the only survivor of a horrific house fire that had killed the rest of his family. It had left him burned, half his face puckered with scars, and he’d been in a catatonic state the entire time. Stiles couldn’t even begin to imagine how awful that would be, being trapped in your own body for years on end, all alone.

Stiles had an inkling of how much being alone sucked, anyway.

(An AU in which Derek is the one who was trapped in the fire, and then in the hospital, based on a set of pictures from littlecofiegirl.)

dhale25 by ericaismeg | 8.1K | 2014

Derek Hale is an actor in Los Angeles, Stiles is a fanboy in Toronto. When Derek posts his Snap Chat username on Twitter, inviting people to add him, Stiles gets brave and adds him.

They develop a snapping relationship, and it gets intense.

I Settle for Long Distance Calls by iamursforevrmre | 4.3K | 2014

Derek is the guy who Stiles met on some random band page on MySpace because Derek made a ridiculously hilarious comment and with a spurt of confidence, Stiles had messaged him to tell him just how hilarious it was and they got to talking. Derek is the guy that made a FaceBook account just to talk to Stiles on the messenger so they could talk more when MySpace was slowly dying out. Derek is the guy that changed his text message plan to unlimited when he finally sent Stiles his cell phone number. Derek is the guy that has been on the phone with Stiles at any and all hours through the day.

And Derek is the guy that Stiles is in love with.

You look like my next mistake by Vendelin | 15K | 2015

“So, are you dating someone new? Someone who doesn’t mind that you’re frigid?” Kate cocks her head to the side, smiling as though she just asked him about where he bought his shoes.

His entire body sighs in defeat as his shoulders grow square. Just as he opens his mouth, someone comes up to stand beside him, snaking an arm around his shoulders. When he glances to his side, expecting to see Isaac, his brain seems to malfunction. Because it isn’t Isaac. It’s Stiles Stilinski, the lacrosse talent of the year, a senior who Derek has seen multiple times from far away, but never ever talked to.

In which Derek is a nerd jock, and Stiles is a frat guy, and Derek falls for him even though he knows he shouldn't.

Coaches Cupcake Coffee House by ChildOfTheRevolution | 4.8K | 2013

Danny looked at him as if he were crazy, ‘It means he wants to ride the dick Stiles.’ He said slowly, as if talking to the mentally insane.

‘Ride the dick, my dick?’ Stiles asked weakly.

‘Figuratively speaking of course, Derek looks more like a topper to me. And you, my friend, are a twink of the most twinkiest standards, but I’m not one to judge.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Stiles admitted, finding himself in a weird crouch-like stance that he apparently now adopts when he’s overwhelmed about finding out Derek Hotcakes wants to bone him three ways to Sunday.

Gladiator AU ( Series) by HaleHole (SweetFanfics) | 9.9K | 2 Works | 2013

He looks up at the door and waits. He hopes that whoever it is, they will be go easy on him. Werewolf he might be, with superhuman healing, but that does not mean that he will not be sore the next day. And he is scheduled for a fight.

Let it be someone easy to please, Derek hopes. Someone who will be quick to take their pleasure and even quicker to leave. He keeps hoping this as the door is pushed open. A voice murmurs a quick set of instructions to whoever has hired him for this session. It is cut off half way through by a familiar, impatient voice that makes Derek strain against his bonds. -- Rome based, Gladiator AU

Stilinski's Home for Wayward Wolves by owlpostagain | 35K | 2013

“At least your puppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them to be well-mannered.”

“There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly.

Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges, abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up and all but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, and sure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock duct taped to the vinyl siding:

DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him

---

Or, in which Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school and accidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

Theory of Overprotective Canines by rosepetals42 | 11K | 2015

Stiles is totally looking forward to living alone in his super cool apartment off-campus. He is. He is also very excited to bike to school every day, ready to set up an awesome game room, and definitely over his crush on Derek Hale. Completely over it.

Or at least he is until Derek decides he's moving in with him. And then turns out to be the perfect roommate. And then starts attending all his classes. As a wolf.

This is not going according to plan.

Hot for Teacher('s Aide) by linksofmemories_archive | 8K | 2013

“He invited you to his apartment.”

“To do a lesson plan.”

“Yeah and to probably lesson your plan while you’re there,” Scott said, waggling his eyebrows.

“That made no sense, but you still managed to make it sound dirty,” Stiles said. “I’m impressed.”

The healing touch by devilscut | 96K | 2015

Stiles loses his temper with the rest of the pack when they all make excuses not to volunteer to help their Alpha. Deaton has instructed that for the next 24 hours Derek can't use his hands after he seriously injures them in a magical entrapment. Seeing the emotional hurt that Derek's selfish pack has inflicted on him when they argue and try to get out of it, Stiles volunteers to stay and then proceeds to give the rest of them a verbal ass-kicking. He then takes care of his friend, the Alpha, Derek Hale, while trying to work out what his feelings are towards the werewolf.

Quit Dragon Me Around (Seies) by WonderWolf | 17K | 3 Works | 2015

Stiles makes the mistake of taking Derek’s sword and now the grumpy werewolf seems determined to stop him from stealing and landing himself in jail.

Stiles is not pleased. He’s also starving.

(Or the one in which Derek has good intentions, but little understanding of how Dragon biology works. He just wants the cute mole-speckled kid to be safe). -----

“Five meals, Scott. Derek Hale has stopped me from eating five meals. I can’t believe he’s really trying to kill me over stealing his sword. That’s so petty of him. It isn’t like I meant to steal it,” Stiles complains.

“You kind of did mean to, dude,” Scott adds unhelpfully.

“But you don’t understand, Scott. It-”

“Just smelled so good? I know, you’ve said that like fifty times over the past two weeks,” Scott says.

“This is the equivalent of him stealing my lunch money, right? Thanks to him, I didn’t have a meal this week. Or last week! He’s a bully, is what he is. A nice smelling, douchebag of a bully.”

You'll See Me Again by matildajones | 10K | 2015

Stiles is standing there in his uniform, hair long and hands behind his back. There’s a blush on his cheeks and he can barely look Derek in the eye.

“Hey,” he whispers. He’s wearing the medal Derek had presented to him.

Derek stares. He doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore.

Stiles is the soldier who saved Derek and brought him back home. He doesn't seem to care that Derek's a prince or that he's a little bit broken. Derek falls, quick and sure, but it's not easy knowing that Stiles will soon have to return to the war.

Thousand by ericaismeg | 4.2K | 2014

“Seriously, Erica, I could tell him a thousand times in a thousand ways and he's never going to understand what I mean.”

“I thought I told you to spell it out to him,” Erica says. “Derek's has trust issues. I told you this would be difficult.”

Stop Crossing Oceans by greenleaf | 11K | 2015

“There are no absolutes, Scott! No hard rights or hard wrongs! The world doesn’t fucking work that way and we can’t afford to think like that, because people are going to die! We signed up for that the moment we got involved with all this!”

“We? We?” Scott hisses. “Don’t you think you? Don’t forget that you’re the one who dragged us into that forest the night it all started, Stiles. So if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours.”

Something inside Stiles cracks, so strong and so deep that he practically hears it.

The Wolf that whispered into Stiles' Heart by ElStark | 9.9K | 2015

Basically the Union of the prompts:

Mute!Stiles + Wolf!Derek + Soulmates/Mates AU

“Don’t you have a pack?” Stiles asks him –by then he had discovered that the wolf was in fact a male wolf –“I mean, wolves move in packs, right? Lone wolves don’t make it on their own. I read it yesterday.” He says while they’re both sprawled on the fallen leaves in Stiles’ secret-thinking spot in the woods. Derek licks his face, and Stiles laughs. “Is that your way to tell me that I’m your pack?” Derek licks him again on the nose, making the boy’s face scrunch up, “Ugh. Gross, dude!” he wipes his drool covered face with his sleeve and then gives the wolf a pointed look, “I’m not a wolf, you should have noticed, you know, I don’t exactly have fur and I don’t growl and I don’t have glowing eyes…” He says leaning in to look them closer, “Are you even supposed to have those kind of eyes? I couldn’t find anything about wolves and glowing eyes on the internet..” The wolf snorts.

Aftermath by GhostwithShotgun | 11K | 2015

Stiles suffers from PTSD and insomnia after the events with the nogitsune. He has nightmares, gets at most one hour of sleep every night and has daily panic attacks. He tries his best to hide it because they all have their own troubles and he doesn't want to burden his friends further.

Meanwhile, Derek has made a habit out of checking all pack members every night to make sure they're alright.

Cross a Canyon (with a broken limb) by theroguesgambit | 18K | 2015

“You never graduated,” Stiles says, just to say it. To test it out in the open air. That's... huh.

Stiles spends his senior year battling troll-gremlins, taking on an unexpected tutoring job, and definitely not falling for a certain sourwolf (even though everyone else seems to think he is).

It's a Schlong Story by floatingstark | 33K | 2015

"Do you like him?"

"Of course I do, he’s great!"

"Then what is the fucking problem?"

"My dick!"

-or-

Ex-Porn Star Derek Hale has a lot of issues but Ice Cream Parlor Owner Stiles Stilinski is not one of them.

Bad Dog Bakery and Café by Boom | 27K | 2015

Stiles saves an Omega from wolfsbane poisoning. Said Omega now won't leave Stiles alone. Stiles doesn't really have a problem with this.

Beat The Blues by lilpeas | 2.9K | 2015

Derek and Stiles have been childhood friends since the sandpit. When Talia realises Stiles is in love with Derek, she knows Derek has to stop seeing him: Derek’s a werewolf and Stiles is human. It can’t be.

But things never go according to plan.

Red Light's Already Off by orphan_account | 3.3K | 2015

Stiles isn't a hooker. He just plays one on TV.

Noteworthy Observations by LadyDrace | 3.7K | 2015

In which Derek recieves complimentary notes in his locker from a secret admirer, and though it turns out they weren't actually for him, things turn out pretty well in the end.

One Hale of a Sandwich by whatthehale | 10K | 2014

Stiles in bed isn’t really something Derek should be thinking about.

Ever.

Because the person who normally picks Lily up from school? Is Scott.

Lily’s other parent. And Stiles’s partner.

Not to mention the entire source of Derek’s current misery.

AKA, the one in which Derek thinks Scott and Stiles are in a relationship and that they want to threesome with Derek. Spoiler Alert? They aren't and they don't.

Choice by Omni | 8.6K | 2015

Derek knows what it feels like to not really have a choice, what it's like to be manipulated. He'd never take away someone's right to choose freely. The fear of even accidentally doing so is enough to hold him back from acting on his own feelings.

Stiles has never had a problem making his own choices, and fuck anyone who would try to tell him he can't.

(Or: Stiles gets bitten by a different alpha, but of course would prefer to have Derek as his alpha. And also just, you know, have Derek.)

Emergency Love by Kedreeva | 13K | 2012

Wherein Derek is a firefighter and Stiles is a paramedic, and they just keep meeting.

gave your smile to me by Sarageek16 | 4.7K | 2013

In which Stiles is a hooker (but not really), Derek wants to feed his skinny little body, and there is soup. Not necessarily in that order.

#sterek #eternalsterek #sterek fic #stiles stilinski #derek hale #fic rec list

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